Dr. No

Disclaimer: This post has absolutely nothing to do with James Bond, Sean Connery, Ursula Andress, or the movie Dr. No.
Zane's favorite word these days is “No!” I know I shouldn’t laugh, but I can’t help it. He gives it numerous different shades of meaning with a variety of emphatic intonations. And I’m not crazy enough to argue back and forth with him when he tells me “no.” I usually just go about doing whatever he should have agreed to (e.g. changing a poopy diaper.) However, I have taken to calling him “Dr. No” because of all of this. (He has also gone by “Dr. Crazy Hair” for obvious reasons.)

Today my sweet son and I were taking a bath together, as we do, so I have a chance to get clean, too. Multitasking. I knew I could be letting myself in for trouble when I asked it, but I decided to risk it. The victory would be so much sweeter if I got the answer I desired. Because sometimes he does say “yes”.

So, I asked, “Zane, do you love me?”

“Nooooooooooooooo.”

“That’s disappointing, because I love you.”

“Nooooooooooooooooo.”

I didn’t take it too personally.

Of course, everyone in our household knows of Dr. No’s penchants by now, so my mom got a big kick out of it when later in the day I decided to ask a different question.

“Zane, do you think I’m ugly?”

“Nooooooooooooooooo.”

Which was quickly followed by these questions:
“Do you think I’m mean?”
“Do you hate me?”
And the piece de resistance, “Do you think I’m a bad mommy?”

And to all of these, I got a big, glorious “No!”

It cracked me up. It cracked my mom up. What’s the harm? Maybe I will get it for this someday, but for now I’m enjoying myself.

~t