Terminator Mom

My son learned a valuable lesson this weekend: Don't call your mother's bluff.

This particular bluff: He was acting up in the pool, as his mother sat deckside, fully dressed. "You won't come in the pool," he said. "You've got clothes on."

Wrong call, dude.

The event happened at a recent party we were having. We had some friends and family over, and everyone was having a fine time. Parker was in the pool with some of the other kids as my wife and a friend sat poolside. Parker had a toy that shoots water. Now, we have some standard rules in the pool: No running, no jumping close to the edge, no teaching the cat to swim, etc. Another rule is that you do not splash people who are not in pool attire. This rule grew from my summer ritual of coming home from work and sitting by the pool while the kids swim. It was originally called the "YOU GOT MY CROSSWORD WET!!!" rule, but my wife and I have since expanded it to anyone sitting poolside wearing street clothes.

So Parker thought he would break the rule, and started shooting water at our friend.

"Parker," my wife said, "do not spray her with water."

He got a devilish smile. Water again. "Parker..." The tone was changing.

Splash, again. "Parker, do it again and I will come in there. And you will NOT like it if I come in there."

And then he made the mistake. He called her out. He gave her a "no you won't" line of defiance.

My wife calmly stood up, took her shoes and sunglasses off, and proceeded to the steps of the pool. And down she went. She marched into the pool and went across the shallow end. Parker stood frozen. She approached him, took the water cannon, and proceed to fling it out of the pool. She then marched out of the pool, as Parker began to melt into a combination of fear, sorrow and a smidge of awe. As one partygoer described it: "He was so freaked out that the Terminator Mom wasn't thwarted by the pool as a barrier."

My wife emerged from the pool, dripping wet, casually grabbed a beach towel from the fence, and calmly strolled toward the house. As she walked in, she looked over at me. "Deal with him." And in she went.

I went to the edge of the pool. "Come. Here. Now."

He was there quickly. His lip was quivering, and we was about to start crying. "What is going on?" I asked.

"Am I grounded?"

"What?" I asked.

"Mom said I was grounded. Is it true?"

The look in his eyes told me this - he had no clue what grounded meant. But he was awfully scared of it.

I told him he needed to get out of the pool, go upstairs and apologize to his mother. "I'm not going to get to go swimming again, am I?" he said. Tears were welling up, and he was pretty much painting a scenario that was about 10 times worse than worse case.

"Just get out of the pool," I said.

He went and sat in a chair, his towel wrapped around him, his lips quivering, and looking to the ground. "Parker," I said, "you need to go inside and talk to your mother." He looked at me with one of the best looks a child looking to get out of trouble has ever given.

Shortly thereafter, he decided to head inside, and had even decided on his own sentence. When we got upstairs, he gave a tearful apology, and he offered up a self-imposed swimming ban. In his apology, it became clear that the splashing in the pool was meant as a fun little game. And he now realizes that when Mom says "Game over," it's game over.

After his exile was concluded, he was a bit of a momma's boy for the rest of the evening, trying to curry favor with the woman he had wronged. It was no harm in the long run, and he learned the most important lesson of all. Mom can swim. And she'll come after you...