I Will Obeeeeey

A few months ago, my son started answering my requests in a monotone voice, saying, “I will obey.” The “obey” was drawn out like obeeeeeey. I’ve literally never used that word in his presence, so I asked him where he learned it.

If there are any folks whose kids are fans of Team Spidey/Spidey and His Amazing Friends, a rather adorable kid’s version of Spiderman, in one episode Hulk is either hypnotized or programmed by a villain to do their bidding, to which he always responds in robotic monotone: I will obeeeeey.

Phew. Ok. I hadn’t taught my son something terrible. But it got me thinking because at that time I felt like the word I used most often was LISTEN.

You aren’t listening to me.

Will you please stop and listen?

Why won’t you just listen?

You didn’t listen, and this is what happens.

When I said LISTEN what I really meant was OBEY.

I hate that word.

I don’t expect my son to obey my every will and command. Personally, I feel like if you want blind obedience, get a dog and a damn good trainer.

But, like most parents, I want him to listen to me. I want him to listen when it’s time to brush his teeth and hold my hand to cross the street and come inside when it’s time for a bath. I want him to listen when I’m trying to get us out of the house. I REALLY want him to listen when I’m trying to get us out of the house AND we have an appointment to hit.

I also want him to ask questions. It’s important that he knows why we do certain things, like practice good hygiene, and buckling seatbelts, and checking both ways for cars. With the rare exception of imminent danger, I don’t want my son to blindly obey my requests (even if it’s super irritating when it’s not on his agenda to do the daily things that would make my life easier if he simply did them upon first ask).

I don’t use the word LISTEN much anymore. I’ve traded up to COOPERATION because that suggests we can work together toward a common goal. That also means I need to cooperate with him and his own wants/needs, even when they don’t jive with mine. He doesn’t always get his way (neither do I), but he also doesn’t have to reach a certain age to have an opinion.

Sometimes he still pulls out the Hulk voice. When he doesn’t want to do something but knows he has to—like washing hands after going potty or getting in the car in time for school—he’ll mumble in robotic monotone, “I will obeeeey,” to which I smile and say, “That’s good cooperation!”