My wonderful 4 year old Dylan is SUCH a Drama King. There's probably nothing I could do to overemphasize just how theatrical he can be, with, frankly, little to no effort. (I have NOOOOOOOOOooo idea where he could possibly get it - honestly!!!!!)
When one of the older kids does something he deems wrong, (basically this entails: anything they say that contradicts his intentions at the moment) his acting skills surface, beginning with a wail that crescendoes, a mouth that opens wide enough to swallow Jonah AND the whale, and the turning on of the Crocodile Tears Faucet. Miraculously, these issues are ALL cured instantly when Mom or Dad step in to save him from the Sibling Monsters, and his devilishly handsome smile reappears.
Occasionally, he tries to brush up on his techniques using Mom or Dad as targets. During a walk around town recently, he was being scolded by Dad due to his inability to follow directions and stay ON the sidewalk and OFF people's grass. (I know, I know...we ask much of the young lad.) After a couple of warnings, Dad laid his hand on Dylan's shoulder and firmly redirected him to the concrete surface where his feet should be. Our budding actor immediately grabbed the opposite shoulder and began moaning. Being the sort of parents who don't rush to fix all things, we ignored him. He eventually realized that his behavior wasn't effecting us, and the remainder of that walk was fairly benign.
Tonight, however, tops the cake.
During my half-hearted attempt at sweeping the kitchen floor, I observed Dylan toss a ball (therefore disobeying a direct order to ROLL the ball only, do not THROW it) onto a recliner, and while trying to retrieve it, he bounced backwards off the cushion and fell on his butt, PERHAPS striking his shoulder and neck LIGHTLY on a nearby bookshelf. If that actually happened, and I'm not convinced it did, but I wasn't standing in a position to be able to see clearly how he landed, it most certainly wasn't painful. Dylan the Dedicated Deliverer of Delightfully Daring and Dramatic Deeds did not disappoint. He launched a full-scale attack on my eardrums.
I.
Ignored him.
He got louder.
I planted my hands on my hips, and glared at him. I informed him he wasn't hurt. I extolled the virtues of not making mountains out of molehills. I read him the Boy Who Cried Wolf riot act.
I ended my advice-laden lecture with "When you're only a LITTLE hurt, you just Get Up and Go On."
Dylan's instant tear-infused reply: "I can't Get Up and Go On when my neck is broken!"
I'm sharing my extra tickets to the Oscars with my TRUE friends in a few years.
