Un-Reasoning Crazy

"Jack, I'm not going to tell you again to stop unrolling the toilet paper roll all over the back seat of the car."
"Buttt... The werewolves are fighting in the mountain, and there's Dr. Phil with a mask on because we need ropes and bandages.  Get it together, Dad!  And I'm not talking about this."

Did you see what he just did?  Mythical creatures, some misinformation (Dr. Phil was added for the element of confusion), and a lot of 5 year old rage means it's impossible to argue any further.  Game over.  Child: 1; Parents: left stammering and gesturing.  You can't reason with the unreasonable.

Unfortunately, this was just a moment in our day.  This kind of dialog seems to be the norm for the Everett family for the foreseeable future as we can't get the kid to make any kind of sense.  Ever.  There are dragons that keep him from taking his clothes to the laundry, tiny bones in his ears that make his brain hurt so bad that he can't hear me say that I want him to eat his chicken and pirates pop up in the strangest places to entice him to hit his brother for no discern-able reason.  My favorite is when he tells us that Miss Uta (his teacher) told him to tell us that it's okay for him to have ice cream and popcorn for dinner and Optimus Prime decided that we are supposed to let him play Angry Birds on our phones until the battery dies.  Why am I never included in these major decisions?  Why aren't the parents invited to sit in on the council meeting that holds a vote on what he wears, eats, plays and does?  I'll tell you why.  Because we haven't got it together, that's why.  We are un-hip, not cool and totally lame.  We are completely mainstream people who are trying to raise little people who are the exact opposite of mainstream.  We eat chicken and fish while he craves green eggs and ham.

Jordan and I are walking a fine line between letting him have a little room to explore the worlds that are possible to only him and losing ourselves in his crazy.  I heard my husband ask Jack for some condiments to go with the order of delusions that Jack was feeding him and realized that we are both sometimes very close to falling off the CLIFFS OF INSANITY!  Is there an eventual end to the madness of trying to find new and inventive ways to exclude a diaper box named Whisper Dan from family activities without hurting Jack's feelings?  Or am I going to have to make room for WD at next year's Thanksgiving table?  Is this why my mom is slightly fuzzy?  Because it's a vicious cycle that repeats itself with every child/parent relationship?  If that is the case, I whole-heartedly apologize to you, Mom.  I'm thankful that after raising four of us to adulthood you are still able to even tie your shoes without drooling on the floor.  Something that I wasn't even capable of this morning.  How long can I tread water in a 5 year olds subconscious before I go under forever?  I need to get away from the tiny John Nash for a little bit each week before I stop thinking like me, and start thinking like him.   I need to get a hobby that isn't kid related.  Maybe macrame.  In the meantime... "Put a little mustard on mine, Captain Crazy!"