Moxie

"Papi, I want to fight the man too."

These words E spoke as my husband got dressed this morning. He was on his way to protest our 2009 tax appraisal.

"You gotta have moxie to fight the man, E," my husband replied. Naturally, E wanted to know what moxie is. Since I was the only one in the room who's seen "Lost in Yonkers," my Richard Dreyfuss "moxie" pantomime went down like a lead balloon. G promised to take E to fight the man on another occasion, explaining that there would be many more opportunities to do so in life, and I kept thinking about moxie.

We don't suffer from a dearth of moxie in this house. E has no problem saying "no" and then backing up his assertion with the appropriate body language. He's fond of asking for an apology when he thinks I've been too hard on him, and is quite adept at being suddenly, sternly, in the room when I thought it was safe to drop the f-bomb.

J usually relies on charm to get what he wants or needs, but when he's too tired for that mess he just cries. Loudly. At length. Until someone picks him up, for the love of God. I like to think this is him growing a backbone, mainly because it keeps me from going insane with the noise.

I'll be blunt: there are days when I wish my kids would shut up and follow, no questions, no fuss. I know that in reality, that's a horrible, horrible thing to want for one's children, because it's the meek ones who never learn how to say "no" who get eaten alive by the bullies and creeps of the world. And where else do kids get to practice saying "no" but at home, with their loving and patient primary caregiver? (*Snicker*--patient! Ha!).

The real trick is teaching kids to stick up for themselves without pissing everyone else off. We've had a hard time with that recently, mostly because E is blunt and vigorous in his refusals, but also because some family members believe that respecting kids is the same as letting the kid be in charge. Said family members give us hell. I ignore said hell for as long as humanly possible.

For instance, G and I are in agreement that our kids shouldn't be made to hug or kiss someone if they don't want to, but that in social situations he must be polite. This sometimes means physical contact with another person. We've taught E an appropriate and respectful alternative, which I've seen him use ("No thank you, I prefer a handshake."). But what happens when the adult won't take no for an answer, grabs the kid, and smothers him with kisses he doesn't want? To the adult, it's a "cutesy" way of getting what they were refused. It's also a good way to get smacked, which E has done, and as snotty as it sounds, I can't really fault him for reacting that way. Here are a few reasons why:

1. It teaches the kid that "no" doesn't mean NO. So when school starts I have to spend time explaining to teachers why E continued to harass a protesting classmate until they had to be physically separated. If his own protestations aren't heard, how will he learn how to back off when other people tell him to stop?

2. It teaches the kid that his body belongs to the adults of the world and that he has no control over who touches him. I've been told by a certain family member that his refusals are inappropriate because E knows the difference between family and a stranger, but I stick by my assertion that if we teach him that he has to kiss or allow himself to be kissed when his instincts are saying "NO," then we're blurring that line. Dangerously so.

3. It teaches the kid that he's not worthy of respect just because he's a kid. I don't know any adults, family members included, who would invite or tolerate being grabbed and slobbered upon after firmly refusing a request for physical contact. Yet I'm being told that my son should tolerate it, for the sole reason that "he is a child," and children should learn to take whatever adults dish out to them because the alternative is raising a slovenly heathen. If that point of view had windows, I would throw a brick through every single one.

4. It diminishes the value of affection, I think. Kissing and hugging should be spontaneous acts. E has declined to hug and kiss me on more than one occasion, and I couldn't care less. I say, "Okay maybe later." I can't think of a single instance in which he hasn't run after me and tackled me with a hug, planting his lips firmly on my cheek. Sometimes I think he just wants to make sure he still has the option of saying no.

E always has the option of "no" with me. Will it always work the way he wants it to? Of course not, because I am the mom and I am in charge, and there are times when he needs to snap to and fall in line. But I'm not going parent him in a way that robs him of his moxie. I want to raise a kid with balls, who won't lie down and take crap from someone just because he's learned that he must Do As He's Told.

If that means locking horns with my stubborn, hard-headed, chock-full-o-moxie offspring from now until the time he's capable of running the world, so be it. I can take it. Vex on, Odysseus.