hypothetical children

Do you remember, back before you had kids, when you only had hypothetical kids, and they were the absolute greatest kids that ever existed? They ate everything you put in front of them because they weren't going to eat unless they ate what you gave them. They were going to listen to what you said, the first time you said it, because they were going to KNOW that you meant business. Et cetera, et cetera and so on and so forth.

Thing is, I'm still the hypothetical parent. He's not going to eat unless he eats what I give him, but he's gone from a child who will eat anything set in front of him to a child who has all kinds of taste and texture pickiness and it's just a whole lot easier to give him something I know he'll like than something I want him to eat. I know he'll eat macaroni and cheese. I know he'll eat peanut butter and jelly. I know he'll eat carrots and green beans. Red beans and rice. Spinach with dressing. Those things are all easy to give him, so he gets them pretty often. Am I fostering a child with a closed culinary mind? Maybe. I guess I should relax, since he's not eating fast food for every other meal. But still. My hypothetical kid didn't gag when I gave him blueberries, or tomatoes, or meat with a seared crust, or shrimp.

Oh, and how my hypothetical kid would listen. And when my hypothetical back went to hell and I had to have hypothetical surgery, my kid would act like an angel for the nannies. My real kid? A total scary monster for his nannies after my surgery. I seriously started to wonder if his existing brain damage had an effect on his behavior, because it reached a total crisis point. Dr. Wifey, his first nanny, was unbelievably patient with him, but he would scream at the top of his lungs any time she would ask him to do anything.

"Okay, Ace, time to get out of bed!"
SCREEEEEEEAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMM
"Ready to eat breakfast?"
SCREEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMM
"Let's put your shoes on!"
Well... you know the deal.

I would be in bed sleeping off a pain pill and be woken up by screams. I had to get up and spank him pretty much every morning because he treated her like garbage. Even with the "if you scream at Miss Dr. Wifey again, I'm going to spank you" warning, he still screamed at her for nothing.

JEEZ, it was embarrassing. I really have no clue how Dr. Wifey hasn't shunned us entirely by now because of the clear presence of a demon in our household, but she hasn't. She's even extended an offer of babysitting one night so Drew and I can go out for a date. Now that's forgiveness.

Since I've been nanny-less, though, he's become a little closer to the hypothetical child. He gets pretty grumpy when he's not in his element (like when we go out of town) or if he's tired, but I think that's standard. He's been listening, being polite at home and at school, and generally being the child I've been trying to rear him to be. Definitely wondering if he's brain damaged now.