LateEnoughScreaming

STOP COPYING ME

I never thought I could harbor such evil thoughts as I do for the preschool miscreant who taught my son:

TheCopyingGame

Remember that hell?

Me: E get in the car.

E: E get in the car.

Me: No really, get in the car.

E: No really, get in the car.

I laughed and thought: I’ve grown up so much because this doesn’t bother me at all.

By dinnertime? IT MADE ME WANT TO SCREAM AND PUNCH THINGS (not my kids)

Next, I made the fatal mistake of telling Scott how much I hate The Copying Game, and our conversation went a little like this:

Me: I cannot believe someone taught him that super annoying game.

Scott: I cannot believe someone taught him that super annoying game.

Me: No really, I need you to commiserate. Stop it.

Scott: No really, I need you to commiserate. Stop it.

Me: Seriously? I HATE THAT GAME, AND I WILL KILL YOU.

Scott: Okay, okay. {quietly to himself} Seriously? I hate that game, and I will kill you.

LateEnoughScreaming

My only advantage is my hatred of copying plus my age has granted me multiple techniques for combating this game of torture.

Technique #1:

I only say nice things about myself. It’s a like a therapist’s echo following me around my house.

Me: Mama is so wonderful.

E: Mama is so wonderful.

Counter-Technique to #1

(that my son has already implemented making me both proud and exasperated)

Me: Mama is the best.

E: E is the best.

Me: What? That’s not what I said.

E: What? That’s not what I said.

Technique #2:

Silence. With age comes the ability to stay quiet for a very, very long time.

Me: {silence}

E: SAY SOMETHING SO I CAN COPY YOU!

Counter-Technique to #2:

I need the kids to do things like brush their teeth, get into the car, stop sitting on the cat, and mime-ing does not cut it.

Me: {silently gesturing to the pajamas}

E: {frolicking around thinking he’ll never have to go to bed}

Technique #3 (my favorite):

Copy back.

Me: Get on your pajamas.

E: Get on your pajamas.

Me: Get on YOUR pajamas.

E: Get on YOUR pajamas.

Me: Get on YOUR pajamas.

E: But I’m copying you.

Me: But I’m copying YOU.

E: But I’m copying YOU.

Me: But I’m copying YOU.

E: No, I’m copying YOU.

Me: No, I’m copying YOU.

There is no Counter-Technique to #3

Everyone breaks because NO ONE LIKES TO BE COPIED SO STOP IT.

Alex Iwashyna

Alex Iwashyna went from a B.A. in philosophy to an M.D. to a SAHM, poet and writer by 30. She spends most of her writing time on LateEnough.com, a humor blog (except when it's serious) about her husband fighting zombies, awkward attempts at friendship, and dancing like everyone is watching. She also has a soft spot for culture, politics, and rude Southern people who offend her Yankee sensibilities. She parents 2 elementary-aged children, 1 foster baby, 3 cats, and 1 puppy, who are all Southern but not rude. Yet.

16 thoughts to “STOP COPYING ME”

  1. Miscreant is a fun word, I’m going to use it today.

    My kids seem to have a short attention span for the copying game, for now. I will deploy all your techniques if needed.

  2. I HATED this game as a kid. I haven’t thought about it in so long… now it’s one more thing to terrify me about having kids one day. Sigh.

  3. This is one of the most entertaining posts I’ve read in a while. Though I can fully appreciate the idea behind the final technique, I am a fan of number 2!

    1. OH NO. That’s totally a counter-technique to #3. Unless you cry back at them? Seems like a no-no in pretty much any parenting circles but I won’t tell if you don’t.

      1. OH NO. That’s totally a counter-technique to #3. Unless you cry back at them? Seems like a no-no in pretty much any parenting circles but I won’t tell if you don’t.

  4. I pretty much live my life doing Technique Number One so my kids know how fabulous I am all the time…

    Mama is so wonderful. Mama is so smart. Mama cooks the most delicious dinner and folds the cleanest laundry and is the best person in this whole house.

    (Okay. I don’t really do this. But I’m going to start now. To be prophylactic, don’t you know…)

  5. No one has taught my son that awful game yet, but I feel like I’m playing it with myself with all the repeating I do.
    “Please put on your shoes.”
    “Please put on your shoes.”
    “PLEASE put on your shoes.”

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