Have you ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome? Like Patti Hearst? When kidnapped victims identify with their abductors and then join them? Maybe it's crap. Maybe it's a primitive, subconscious survival mechanism--if you can't beat 'em join 'em. Maybe it's a byproduct of acute trauma. I don't know. I'm certainly not taking the time to Google it now.
I was thinking about this Stockholm Syndrome last night, and I was thinking about its mirror--if you're being taken advantage of or manipulated, and you appear to play along and join them, does that have the same effect? Are the abductors mollified by your surrender? Does everything play along smoothly until ATF comes banging down your door, and you throw up your hands and say, "I was faking it!!!" How does that play out?
We put the kids to bed last night at 7:40. Ten minutes past bedtime, in fact, so that they could (my good, red-blooded American boys) eschew the Michigan-Bama game and the Clemson-Auburn game and watch the last ten minutes of the underrated Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief. (Yes, M was physically twitching to get back to the football.)
We put the boys to bed, but heard S upstairs in his room, periodically digging through bins of Legos. Those Legos make a distinctive sound when being sorted through. Sort of like a rain stick. Eight, eight thirty, eight forty five, nine...
S comes down and begs to be put back to bed. M, in surrender flicks off the TV, planning to watch the rest in bed. Tuck S in for the 10,000th time. I come up after a half hour on Facebook, and also tuck in S. The Michigan game got out of hand in a hurry. We flicked off that TV, too, and considered maybe.....
Knocking on the bedroom door.
At least he knocks, the other one just walks right in.
Yes?
Sobbing like you have never heard before in your life. There is a near fetal S on the floor, trembling in fear, or at least a damn good recreation of it.
I again return him to bed, and lay down with him to sort out the issues. He's afraid of ghosts. (Also, he has a bridge to sell you). He can barely even say it with a straight face. His story is ludicrous, and he and I both know it.
"It's just that I need to be close to people. It makes me feel.....safer...." he sniffs.
Mmmhmmm.
I bring him into my bedroom, TV back on. M and I put him in between us and smile knowingly over his head. This kid is playing us.
M leans over and says, "it's good he's still able to smile despite his fear."
S comes back with the best line ever uttered by a child trying to manipulate his parents:
"It's not a smile of mischief. It's a smile of LOVE."
He's a pro, alright.
After about 20 minutes, we try to pick him up to return him to his room (it's now near ten thirty). A tiny voice, barely concealing a smile, comes up from under his too-rigid armpit "just two more minutes? Please, I'll feel safe in two more minutes." Eventually, ALL the games are over, Oregon is on and THAT game is completely out of hand, and M and I are still staring at this non-sleeping kid between us. M rousts S and heads him off to bed.
We turn off the TV and attempt to.....
Crying. Again?!?! "What is it?" And S, ever-committed to his family, EVER loving, EVER good: "I don't want to disturb you. Or annoy you. I just HATE the night. I hate sleeping. I just can't do it."
I crawl into bed with S--his "smile of love" looking an awful lot like a "smile of triumph." I fall asleep there for an hour or so, and return to my own darkened room. It's cold in there. M is long asleep. Dog is asleep. I'm awake now. I was had. Completely taken. But I knew I was doing it. I was complicit in my own duping. Does that make me less a fool? Should I have laid down the law?
Am I guilty in my own suckering?
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