I say slow, he says fast.

I say pizza, he says hot dogs.

I say red-box, he says net-flicks.

I say bath, he says shower.

I say sweatshirt, he says bare-chested.

I say up, he says down.

Meet (dum dum dum...) Captain Contrarian.  

I dubbed him thus over three years ago when I delivered a comedic talk for young moms entitled "Becoming Supermom!"  In the opening I introduced myself to the gathering of women, by introducing them to the super-identities of my three sons.  

Captain Contrarian was the super-identity of my first born when he was nearly five.  Now at eight and a half he continues to leap over tall buildings in a single (super-contrary) bound each and every day!  

It never ceases to amaze me how contrary this happy, healthy, loved child can be.  It's as though he was wired that way in my womb.  And as I have a naturally submissive personality, this has been a constant area of work for me as Captain C's mother.  

Every day his contrarian ways move faster than a locomotive through our home, but tonight's contrary display of super-power took the cape.  

While tucking him into bed I reminded him that we would be finishing up his book report in the morning.  We went over the notes we had already jotted down and plotted out our display for his presentation.  The name of his book is "Lady Lollipop" so I suggested something I KNEW would make my strong-willed boy melt with delight.  "Why don't we go to the store and get a bag of lollipops to decorate the poster with?  Then, at the end of your presentation, you can hand one out to each of the children in your classroom."

Surprisingly, the Captain merely shrugged and said, "No, I don't think so." 

"Caleb" I said, in my best kryptonite laced tone, "I'm going to offer you this one more time, think carefully before you answer.  Would you like to decorate your LADY LOLLIPOP poste-rboard poster-board with actual lollipops, (your most favorite candy in the world,) and then give one to each of your classmates at the end of your presentation?"  

"No."

"Okay", I said with a smile.  Then I changed the subject.  Suddenly, as if awakening from his self-made nightmare, he cried, "wait, wait... I want to bring Lollipops!  I want to bring Lollipops!"

"I knew you would like bringing Lollipops to school, Caleb.  That's why I offered them to you.  But you would rather fight me, refusing the very best candy in the world, rather than just receiving and saying thank you."

Tears were spilling down his face and soaking his Superman blanket by this point.

"Caleb, because you would rather be contrary than receive good from me, I am not going to give you another chance to earn them again.  They were a gift that you refused.  Next time... think before you turn down my offers."

First thing this morning I made him his favorite breakfast - homemade pancakes with bacon and strawberries.  I cut his stack of hot cakes up and brought syrup to the table.  He looked at the syrup (not our usual brand) and said, "I don't like that kind of 'dippy' I want the kind I like."  

I smiled and said, "we are all out of that kind, but you can have this kind or none at all."

"I don't want any" he concluded and so I turned to my four year old and squeezed the sticky goo liberally upon his already drenched stack of pancakes.  "Yummy" he exclaimed.

Again my first born was knocked from his supremely heroic high-horse, as he cried out "I want some...."

My words echoed last night's conclusion:  "I know you like "dippy" that's why I offered you what I had to give, Caleb.  But you would rather fight me, than take what I am trying to give you."

"You won't give me the syrup now?"  He asked in complete shock.

"No, my boy, I will not."

And then I reminded him of the day we went to Disneyland just the two of us.  I had pointed out "Mr. Toad's Wild Ride" and reminded him of the fun we had had reading "The Wind and the Willows" together.  "Want to go on it, Caleb?  There isn't much of a line now."  He shrugged his contrary shrug and said, "No."  And so I smiled and we walked away.  Barely out of fantasy land and he stopped, breathless, all power-gone, and simply said, "I wanted to go on Mr. Toad's Wild Ride."

On that contrary day I had spoken similar words to my beloved contrarian:  "I knew you would like it, Caleb. That's why I offered to take you on the ride. But you would rather fight me,  than receive the good things I want to give you."  And on we walked to discover more fun together.

When I write the words down this way I seem so calm and collected.  But know that it takes all of my own super-strength to carry on lovingly forgiving, consistently correcting, and gracefully displaying tenderness in the face of his childish ways.  

So where does that super-power of love and grace come from when I can better identify with Lex Luther than any super hero?  It comes from the Super-One who loves me unconditionally, forgives me graciously, and corrects me consistently.  He is my parent as I parent Captain Contrarian.  And so I want to love my child as my Father has loved me, to surrender to the forgiveness that my Father has lavished first on me, to walk in the gracious footsteps that have led the way, and to stand firm in the same consistent correction that my Father has shown me in the fire of his love.

Stand firm, sweet Mamas.  Take deep breaths.  Pray before you respond.  Be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry.  Press on.  In His strength.  in His Super-power!

Let us not grow weary in doing good,

for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart!