In which I am pimping for a 4 year old

Parenting today is different than when I was a kid. As kids, we used to do things just because we didn’t want to find out what “or else” meant and “you’re cruising for a bruising” could be pretty motivating even without follow-through.

Today – kids work for rewards.

My four year old has been doing a bang-up job staying dry through the night. His reward …

A sleepover …

with Harriet.

Harriet has been his pre-school gal pal for the last two years. She’s seen him through his fascination with Sleeping Beauty, Barbie and wearing nail polish.

A funny thing happened on the way to my son’s coming out party though – he’s turned into a hound.

I am now thinking that all those hours spent reading fairy tales, buying Hello Kitty sheets and making princess dolls weren’t him embracing his inner rainbow flag … they were just research for putting bait on his metro sexual hook.

Suddenly his pre-school class has turned into Knot’s Landing with daily drama that makes my head spin. “Dominique is my girlfriend this week -- I traded Catherine and Harriet for her.” “Becky broke up with Ryan because he loves Caroline more.” “Harriet and I are back together – we’re getting married.”

We’ve had to add 20 minutes to our morning school routine so he can pick flowers to bring to class.

He makes his entrance like a mini-Hugh Heffner, casually handing me his jacket and announcing. “Girls … I’m heeere!” They literally come running from all corners of the room, trailing crayons and cheese doodles behind.

“I only have 3 flowers today … but I can bring more tomorrow.”

Girls press closer and start jumping up and down and shouting “Pick Me! Pick Me!”

Andrew pauses dramatically. “Hmmmm, today I pick Harriet, Catherine and Dominique.”

The three girls dance around gleefully showing off the branches broken off our Azalea tree. The others slink back to their seats for a good sulk. It’s like watching The Bachelor play out in munchkin-land.

I have no idea where they get this stuff. My husband certainly didn’t have that kind of rap in college. When meeting me in the dining hall, his opening line was more along the lines of, “Gee you really like black olives, huh?” Hot.

Planning for this sleepover is already in full-swing. On the day I brokered the deal with Harriet’s mom, Andrew announced, “Harriet is very fancy, we’re going to need a romantical dinner.”

“Uh, OK,” I said, unsure of what that might entail.

“You, Daddy and Cameron can eat in the kitchen. You can be our waitress”

He next demanded candles, flowers, and drinks in fancy glasses. He would be dimming the lights – in case I had any delusions that I might be in control.

“After dinner, there will be dancing,” He announced. “And Brownies.”

Phew … I’m going to have to call a caterer.

The next morning I came into his room to discuss the sleeping arrangements. Most nights he and his older brother share bunk beds.

“I want Cameron to sleep in HIS room when Harriet sleeps over,” he said. “I want her all to myself!”

I could see that it was time for a little sit-down.

“OK,” I said. “But lets talk about this, you know you guys have to sleep. You can’t be in here kissing all night”

“Oh mommy … I KNOW! There’s no kissing. You can ONLY kiss your family. I can only kiss you at the sleepover!”

He smiled sweetly at me and batted his big brown eyes. “Te Amo Mommy, Te Amo double!” and with that he gave me a great big kiss.

I am sunk.