Have you ever read about boy kings? You know, those small children throughout history who were thrust into positions of power at the age of two or five or ten. I used to think these children must have been so confused and scared. I pitied them. This was before I had children.
I now understand that having the worship, adoration and servitude of others is the normal mode of operations for small boys. There is nothing strange to them about being told, "You are ruler of the kingdom" because, deep down, they all suspect that they are. Everything around them is theirs to command, and woe to those who get in their way!
This morning, before eight o'clock, I was ordered to change the wet sheets, turn on Bob the Builder, remove the wet shirt, get room-temperature lemonade (or "yellow drink," which must never be served cold), heat some fish sticks, and get a clean shirt and pants for His Royal Highness the two-year-old. All of this he ordered without the slightest bit of self-pity.
And lest you think I am the sole recipient of his dictatorial tendencies, while eating his fish sticks he said, "Stop it, I'm eating!" When I asked to whom he addressed his royal tantrum, he replied, "The snot in my nose." You see, even mucous is expected to hearken and obey.