Kegan's serene and peaceful face is a deceptive mask for the cunning, manipulative, hilarious little monster that lurks within. He is a worthy opponent and often made me think, hours later, about the absurdity of the fact that I had lost an argument with a small child who not only had severe autism, but couldn't talk. And trust me, I lost Every. Single. Argument.
(And while I was lying in bed at night pondering this fact, I'm sure Kegan was lying in HIS bed, snickering at the fact that once again, he had made me his bitch.)
One of our most popular stand-offs was The Battle Of The Stairs. The living room and kitchen were upstairs and the kid's bedrooms were downstairs. Most of the time this wasn't an issue. Kegan was perfectly happy being upstairs with his brother, sister and me. We would watch cartoons, eat Goldfish crackers, dance to the Wiggles, whatever... and Kegan was perfectly content.
Until it was time for his baby brother and toddler sister to take their naps.
I would put Charles and Venice in their cribs, tippy-toe upstairs, and that's when Kegan would declare war.
First he'd casually head to the stairs, glance over at me, and then begin to skip down the steps.
Me: "Kegan, no. Stay up here with Dani."
Kegan: *sighing heavily, turning around, and slowwwwwwlyyyy coming back up*
1 minute later, he would walk ohhhh soooo casually to the stairs, glance at me, and skip quickly down the stairs.
Me: "Kegan! No stairs! Get back up here."
Kegan: *glaring at me and coming back up the stairs*
1 minute later, he would walk backwards towards the stairs, looking everywhere except at me.
Me: "Kegan, walking backwards doesn't fool me. I know what you're doing. No stairs."
Kegan: *shaking his hand at me* "No no no no no!"
Me: "Yes yes yes yes yes! Get back over here!"
I would attempt redirection, bribery with snacks, threats, blackmail, and sitting on him while tickling the crap out of him. Meanwhile, he was:
Walking backwards towards the stairs with his eyes closed.
Dropping to the floor and crawling to the stairs.
Dropping to his belly and comando crawling to the stairs.
Lying on his back and scooting himself to the stairs.
Lying on the floor and rolling to the stairs.
Sitting at the top of the stairs and sobbing pitifully.
Sitting on the second step and having a tantrum.
Lying on the third step and whimpering.
Sitting on the fourth step and screaming, "NO NO NO NO NO!" at me.
Standing at the top of the stairs and pointing down the stairs while bawling. (No tears, fyi. Through any of this. Just a lot of noise.)
Walking over to me, hugging me, kissing me, then going to the stairs and casually heading down.
Having a massive fit on the way back up.
It usually ended with him lying on the floor at the top of the stairs, kicking the railing and yelling at me until Venice would climb up the stairs carrying her bottle and the baby would begin howling in his crib.
(All this usually took about half an hour.)
At this point Kegan would give me a triumphant look and hop down the stairs, where he would stay for roughly 1 minute before coming back up and never going back down again, until the next day when it was time for Charles and Venice to take their naps.
The remainder of the day would be spent with two really whiny, tired babies, one really whiny, tired nanny, and one really smug Kegan.