Jacob was born with the persuasive gene, the persistence gene… and the Purnell genes. The triple threat.
One time my friend Sarah told me about a couple she knows that are both lawyers. The little boy approaches his mom one day and asks for something. She says no. He amiably accepts her answer and strolls off. Meanwhile Attorney Mom then spends several minutes coaching her son to never accept no for an answer. Don’t give up. Fight for what you want. You gotta go after it.
I find this lawyer story quaint.
Back when Jacob was in Miss Maria’s class, which mind you, was still a class of toddlers in diapers, he invited everyone to a party he was having at his house. The teachers fell for this invite hook, line, and pacifier. Everyone was looking forward to this fictitious soiree. Till I burst their party bubble.
Grandma has always been especially prone to Jacob persuasion. You can frequently find her quoting things he tells her as fact. When he was five, he gave her a package inside our front door. It had arrived that day. “Sure, take the box. It’s empty. It’s all yours!” Meanwhile she absconded with several hundred witch fingers a couple days before Halloween.
He’s persuasive. And persistent. And an emotional rollercoaster. He says everything with such conviction. He believes it. At that very moment. But if you know him, you know to give him a few minutes and a snack and his strongly held beliefs will most likely evaporate like a party bubble dancing in a room full of witch fingers.
When he was five or six he would yell and cry and tell me he would never like reading. NEVAH! He hated books and stories and nothing I could do would ever change that. “I know you want me to love reading, but I will NEVER love it, Mom.” Dagger straight to the book-reviewing-straight-A-striving-mommy-blogger heart.
The only way to combat the triple threat is to agree with him. Yep. Books are evil. Stories are the spawn of Satan. Reading? You don’t need it. Never will.
In the moment, you’ll have no idea that at some point his desire to read the Barbie-sized writing on Pokémon cards will propel him into the land of the literate. Jake credits Pokémon for teaching him to read. In all seriousness. It certainly wasn’t thanks to the three teachers he had for first grade. My sincere gratitude goes out to Picachu.
Lately he’s been going through Wings of Fire books like Honey Nut Cheerios. He’s so hard to wake-up in the morning. Our night owl has been up too late sucked deep into dragon drama.
A day or two ago I lean over Jacob in his bed. “Why are you so tired?”
“Mom. I love reading.”
I’m known for my persuasion and persistence. I am a Purnell.
