One thing you should know about Edison is that, in his world, his wants are his needs. There is no difference between wanting to lay down in a very specific part of the couch, let’s say precisely where Darwin has been sleeping for the last hour, and needing food. If he wants it, he needs it and he is very in touch with his needs.
To make it more fun for the whole family, he is also extremely comfortable expressing his needs. A stare ignored becomes a glare. If needed, he’ll up the ante by singing you a slow somber dirge of woe, with a little backwards jump added for emphasis. If all else fails, he’ll throw himself to the floor with a heavy sigh, waiting for the white light to take him home to his Maker.
There is an on-going “arguscussion” between my husband and I about whom, he or I, taught Edison these histrionic displays. We both have our talking points, our ammunition: the day I went ballistic over how many tomatoes he put on a DiGiornio pizza, the night he went ape-shit because I left my underwear on top of the stove (yeah, I still have no explanation for that).
We go tit for tat and will never agree, and that’s perfectly okay. It’s one of the charms of being married. But in the end, it really doesn’t matter . We decided early on to let our boys be who they are. There are rules of the house that they must learn and live by, but beyond that, we allow them to like what they like, hate what they don’t, and sing ridiculous, dramatic and off-key songs because we refuse to make Darwin move Right.This.Second.