As I’ve mentioned before, I was not the best-behaved little boy in the world, and I often disobeyed my mother. When I was about three or four years old, she figured out a clever way to get me to do things. For example, let’s say that I was playing outside and my mother wanted me to come in for supper. She’d call to me out the window, “Jack, come on in, it’s time for supper.” I pretended that I hadn’t heard her and simply went on doing what I was doing. So she called out a little louder. “Oh, maybe you didn’t hear me. I said come on in, it’s time for supper.”
This time I answered her: “No! I want to stay out here and play.”
So then she said even louder, “I said come in, it’s time for supper.”
“No!” I insisted.
My mother yelled, “You’re making me mad!”
“I don’t care,” I said.
Then she made her voice so soft that it was hard to hear her. “If you don’t come in right now, the bogeyman’s going to get you.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll be right in.”
When I was inside, my mother said, “Wash your hands.” I ignored her. So she said, “Oh, maybe you didn’t hear me. I said wash your hands.”
“No!” I said.
“I said wash your hands,” she said a bit louder.
“No!” I said. “They’re only going to get dirty again.”
“You’re making me mad,” she said.
“I don’t care,” I said.
Then she made her voice soft again and said, “You wash your hands or the bogeyman’s going to get you!”
“Okay,” I said, and washed my hands.
At dinner I always ate the meat first and then, if there was any room left, the potatoes. I almost never touched the vegetables.
“Eat your vegetables,” my mother said. I pretended that I didn’t hear her.
“Oh, maybe you didn’t hear me. I said eat your vegetables.”
“No!”
“Eat your vegetables,” she said a bit louder.
“No!” I said. “I don’t like them, and you can’t make me eat them.”
“You’re making me mad,” she said.
“I don’t care.”
Then her voice got very soft, and she said, almost in a whisper, “You eat your vegetables or the bogeyman’s going to get you.”
“Okay,” I said, and ate my vegetables in a hurry.
Later in the evening my mother said, “It’s bedtime. Put on your pajamas and get ready for bed.” I pretended that I didn’t hear her.
“Oh, maybe you didn’t hear me,” my mother said. “I told you to put on your pajamas and get ready for bed.”
“No!”
“Go to bed,” she said a bit louder.
“No, I don’t want to go to bed. I’m not tired.”
“I said, go to bed.”
“No! You’re so mean.”
Her voice got very soft, and she said, “You go to bed or the bogeyman’s going to get you.”
“Okay, I’ll go to bed.” And I did.
This sort of thing went on for a long time until I finally figured out that no matter what I did or didn’t do, the bogeyman never got me. So I decided to play a little trick on my mother. I woke up in the middle of the night and started screaming at the top of my voice, “Help! Help! Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! The bogeyman! The bogeyman! He’s got me! He’s biting me! He’s chewing me! He’s eating me! Help! Help! Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!”
I guess I must have scared my mother half out of her wits. She raced down the hall, charged into my bedroom, and switched on the light, all the while shouting, “Oh! My boy! My boy! My poor little boy! What’s the matter? What’s the matter? What’s the matter?”
And there I was, standing up in the middle of my bed with an enormous grin on my face. “I fooled you!” I said to her.
After that my mother never threatened me with the bogeyman again. Also, I didn’t have any dessert for the next two weeks.
