The Bull

My little CJ was born under the Zodiac sign of Taurus. I'm not the sort of person who reads the horoscope. I know that I'm a Sagittarius but I've never thought much of what "sign" the boys are.
As an infant, I nicknamed him (at home) Bulldog- because he was stubborn from the minute the doctor cut him from my womb. He was probably stubborn while gestating too, I just didn't realize it.  But, I digress.
A friend recently mentioned to me that his sign is The Bull, which I found cute knowing my own previous little nickname for him that was replaced by "The touchless wonder." 
I looked up what qualities someone born under Taurus supposedly has and one stuck out: Stubborn by nature. The Taurus will stand his ground to the bitter end- sometimes irrationally.
Case in point:
On Good Friday, I had to work. Both of the kids were off school and they were headed to my mom's house for the day.
CJ located a pair of blue pants out of the bottom of his drawer and had to wear them. Recently he'd decided that blue is his favorite color. Problem with this was that the pants were a size 2T on a child that fits a 3-4T size. The elastic waist still fit him but length is where the problem came in. He was a boy in blue Capri pants.
Jay looks at him and tells  him that he will get him a pair of pants that fit. CJ balks, "I want these."  Now the next fifteen minutes went something like:
"What about these?" Jay held up another pair.
"No."
"These?"
"No."
"Look these have Thomas on them." Jay pulling out the big guns of persuasion.
"No."
The wheels on the bus go round and round...

Then WC joins in the unnecessary battle of wills, attempting to get his brother to change his pants. And the more they harp...well, I bet you can guess what CJ's response was. He was wearing the pants. End of story.
Have they ever met this child?

I finally decide to try and end this. I tell both Jay and WC to just leave CJ alone. It doesn't matter what he wears to his grandparents house. Tonight, I will remove the offending garment and will not put it back in his drawer.  Just let it alone.

With all kids it's important to pick your battles and especially with a naturally strong willed child, such as CJ.

But WC protests at having to look at CJ wearing such short pants. Unlike fart jokes, CJ pants offend his delicate senses. I asked him if he needed reminding of some of the outfits that he used to wear out to the store when he was 2-3? Once he went to Walmart in a long sleeve striped shirt, plaid shorts and bright red boots. He went off to continue to needle his brother behind my back.

Driving down the interstate, I could still hear WC harping on CJ's pants. And I began to fear that he would in fact succeed in changing his brothers mind. Because I was now without a way to change CJ's pants. This grew into a very large worry. I repeatedly told WC to stop.

We arrived at my moms house and of course, WC is still beating the hell out of that dead horse. I pull him to the side and explain to him the nightmare that would ensue if he now convinced CJ that he needed to change pants. "If he wants them off, you will now have to listen to him scream and cry because he has no other pants."
"He can wear mine," WC replied.
"Think about that for a minute." I tell him and pat him on the head.

I get out quickly. I don't want to be anywhere around if it went bad.

And then the rose colored glasses fell off

WC is in his second week of a new after school karate program. He's been picked up at school by his new instructor (who also picks up from other local schools) where they go back to the dojo and have homework/snack time and a 45 min karate lesson or conditioning games.
I thought for sure, with his negative attitude and distaste for change, that he'd have a rough adjustment of it for a week or two. The first Monday, I arrived and he was all smiles. He climbed into the car and his mouth ran 50 miles an hour. Every phrase began with, "Guess what?" And, of course, I had to respond with "What" after every single time.
He loved it...every single bit. I breathed a sigh of relief and then wondered how long that would last. I felt guilty for my pessimism. But, I do know this child very, very well.
How long would his love of this new karate class last... Turns out 9 days.
The building was warm last night when I arrived. Since, it was our first day of temps to hit 70 this year, It was clear to me that they discovered their air conditioning didn't work.
WC emerged from the boys changing room with a frown that dragged the floor. "I didn't have a good day," he declared and dropped to the floor to put his shoes on.
"Because it's hot in here," I asked.
"Because I didn't get a tip," he huffed. (A tip is a piece of colored tape placed on their belt. It signifies they've completed a step towards qualifying to test for the next level belt. They are big deals). He received his first two tips within the first week and I think that set an unrealistic expectation in his brain.
"No one gets tips every class," I countered.
"But, I did my best and I earned it. I can't do better," he argued once we reached the car. "This is why I hated karate."
I tried to explain that if continues to go in and do his best that he will earn the next tip. When he complained that others in the class got tips, I tried to counter with how his karate is all about him and not anyone else. He isn't competing against anyone else. I think he may have looked at my like I was crazy, but I was driving the car and couldn't be sure.
Although, by the time his father got home and I told him that WC had a down day his explanation had changed slightly. He told Jay that Sensei had a long, hard day and was frustrated that afternoon! He didn't even mention the disappointment over the tip.
WC told me in the car this morning that he didn't like karate anymore. I just told him that I loved him and to have a good day.