A "Little" "Friendly" Competition

My son likes to win. Who doesn’t, right? No one likes losing. But some people handle losing better than others. I’ve been a Royals fan my entire life and haven’t seen them in the playoffs since I was two. I have an incredible ability to deal with losing. In that way, my son is nothing like me.

This kid has to win at everything. He has to be the biggest and the strongest. Once he told me that no human could beat up a gorilla. No human but him, of course. Now, unless the competition involves spelling or nose-picking, my kid will not beat a gorilla. But if you try to tell him that, he’ll flex his muscles and assure you that a gorilla fight wouldn't be a problem.

But his need for victory isn’t limited to imaginary fights with wild animals. He has to win in day-to-day life, too. Here’s an example of a typical moment in our house:

Me: “Jono, let’s go downstairs and get your hair brush out of the bathroom.” (I start walking toward the stairs.)

Jono: “Um… WAIT! Wait… uh… just a sec. (Jono quickly runs to stand on the step directly in front of me.) “Ok, let’s just walk kinda slow, ok?”

Me: (Trying to squirm my way around him on the stairs) “Uh, yeah, let me just…”

Jono: “No! HAHA! WAIT!” (Jono runs as fast as he can down the stairs and into the bathroom.) “HAHAAAAAAA! I WON! I TRICKED YOU!”

Me: “Yes, you’re very smart.”

Were we racing for the hair brush? No. Well, I wasn’t. Jono is always racing for everything. 

When I ask him about school, he likes to tell me about his victories on the soccer field at recess. He’ll say, “We won at soccer today!” Or maybe, “We lost but tomorrow we will NOT lose and we'll beat EVERYONE!”

The kid also likes racing in cars. For example, sometimes we wind up with two cars at church on Sunday mornings. (I know… we’re Americans and we hate the environment.) When it’s time to leave, Jono will usually get to pick which car he wants to ride in. This is a typical ride home from church:

Jono: “I wanna riiiiiiiide wiiiiiiith… uh… Dad!”

Me: “Ok, let’s go.”

Jono: “Okaaaay! HAHA! We’re gonna beat Mom!”

Me: “I dunno. Mom is pretty fast.” [She is. And somehow she never gets speeding tickets. I think it’s because she’s gorgeous.]

Jono: “She’s not as fast as us!” (We climb into the car. Mom pulls out ahead of us.)

Jono: “Go faster, Dad! OOOOOOH, HOHO! We’re catching up! GoFastGoFastGoFast! Fasteeeeeerrrrr! WE WON! (Car door opens) WE BEAT YOU, MOM! You were NOT as fast as us! HAHA!”

Usually these “games” are amusing. But problems arise when Jono thinks we’re having some sort of ongoing Intelligence Competition. For instance, if I try to tell him how to spell a word, he realizes that I knew something he himself did not. This is heresy.

“No, that’s not how you spell it,” he’ll say.

“Uh, yeah. It is, son.”

“No, you’re not telling the truth.”

Yeah. I have so much to gain from this deception. And this conversation is definitely worth it.

He just hates to be outdone. Sometimes we have competitions to see who can be the most stubborn. (Here’s a hint: I can.)

Years ago I took upon myself the household title of “Big Kahuna.” When Jono would throw a fit or disobey, I’d tell him to remember that I was his boss. I was the Big Kahuna. At this point, it became a battle of wills. If he would submit to the Kahuna’s will, all would go well with him. Otherwise, he would be pinned in a wrestling hold and forced to confess my title and authority. 

Tantrums decreased. 

We bought him this shirt.

I know what you’re thinking. I’m a big bully and a jerk.

Anyway, where was I going with this? Oh, right. My son is competitive and I’m not.

THE END