Like A Fiddle

Micah swims naked. We've established that before. It's a battle we've fought and given up on. It's just us here, after all. Or at least it is until someone stops in, and then it's just us and a flabbergasted onlooker. But my theory is, it's his pool and he'll pee in it if he wants to. Or something like that.

We did have a 10 minute battle of wills when I took Micah to the local beach. It wasn't our pool, and although pee would probably cleanse the lake water a bit, shorts weren't optional. He finally decided that wearing shorts into the giant bathtub (weird though that is) was better than not bathing in it at all.

And we thought that maybe, just maybe, he'd now swim in tiny trunks at home. But we thought wrong. He still swims naked here. On a rare occasion he'll let his swimmy shorts on long enough to get them soaked, and then they go flying across the patio to lay drying in the sun while his tanned nethers cool off in the water.

Today he wanted to go swimming, and I clearly said I don't think so, son. But he doesn't like to be told that he can't do something. (Shush, you in the red saying that he must be just like his mama.) He took his shirt off. By now he was hanging on my very last nerve and I was primed and ready for the battle.

Just try to disobey me today, boy. Go ahead. I dare you.

I told him again that he could not go swimming. I know he understood. He took his shorts off. I said you can take those shorts off but you're not going swimming. And he headed upstairs. Smart boy that. Just like his mama.

But when he came downstairs? He was wearing swim trunks and carrying a towel. He grinned as he walked right by me and out the door. The boy was going swimming.

I was played like a fiddle. That little stinker knew for a certain that if he put on trunks he'd get to go swimming.

And here's the question of the day: who won that battle? Me, because he swam with clothing on? Or him, because he got to go swimming when I told him no?

Compliance is a complicated issue.