Birth of sarcasm

I remember the first time I tried sarcasm on Ian. He wasn't quite three years old, and we were all going to a waterpark for the afternoon. Ian seems to get a thrill every time he is told that he can do something cool, so he'll ask whether he can participate over and over again even after we've told him that, yes, "all of us" includes him. It's like candy to his ears. So even after telling him we're going to the waterpark while we're getting swimsuits on ("Why do we need swimsuits? The waterpark? YAY!"), while we're climbing in the car ("Where are we going? The waterpark? YAY!"), and while we're en route ("Are we going to the waterpark? We are? YAY!"), he still wasn't satisfied. Upon arrival, the first words out of his mouth were "The waterpark! Can I go, too?"

Momentarily forgetting that I was dealing with a toddler so temperamental that he would smash a banana in his fists if it so much as looks at him wrong, I responded with a jolly "Nope, no waterpark for Ian!" I assumed the sing-song tone of my voice would mean he'd either hear what he wanted to hear or not really hear me at all. Big mistake. After the longest single second ever - during which I could see the words enter Ian's head, bounce around like a pinball hitting nothing but rubber bands, then shoot straight down the middle before a single flapper could make contact - his eyes registered comprehension, his lower lip curled, and all the anticipation he'd built up disgorged in a sob so profound you'd think I'd just gutted his teddy bear in front of him. I had to walk him toward the water myself before he calmed down, and he looked askance at me the rest of the day.

In retrospect, maybe it wasn't so much being sarcastic as just being a prick. Sometimes I get those confused. Law school does that to people.

Today, however, Ian is days away from turning four, and he's finally started to figure things out. He's getting better at dressing himself, but long pants pose a challenge, so he asked me for some help. "Nope, no pants for you today," I said. "You'll just have to go to the park without them." For a moment I thought back to that day at the waterpark, wondering if I'd just ruined his day once again. But then a smile spread across his face.

Ian laughed and said "You're funny, daddy." I helped him with his pants, and we were on our way.

He's finally figured me out.