Be a Yes Man

More fun from 2 years ago.

Day 1

I've decided to answer "Yes" to every question I'm asked this week. It sounds simple enough, but I hoped to fly under the radar for a few days at home.

Otherwise, I fear seven days of housework and healthy eating once my wife finds out.

I was safe through the middle part of the first day, even though I had to share my potato chips at lunch with Linda when she asked, "Is it okay if I have some?"

Now, I consider myself to be a generous guy; if someone asks me for something, I can share, no problem.

Except when it comes to my junk food--then, it's every man for himself. There can be no sharing when it comes french fries, chips, ice cream, cookies, and the like.

The problem is, Linda is a Communist with food. What's mine is yours, and what's yours is mine, and if we all share, there will be enough for everyone. What a Pinko!

I, however, am a Junk Food Dictator. What's mine is mine, what's yours is mine, and I may even take some from the kid, too, if I feel like it.

I've gotten upset if Linda eats more than two of my french fries, because, well, they're mine and I had plans for them! I was going to eat them! And they're mine! So clearly, one of us has a problem.

The potato chip debacle aside, I was still safe until dinner, when 7-year-old Daniel asked what I was doing this week.

I walked quickly toward him, intending to answer him quietly, and hoping Linda hadn't heard. No such luck.

"Yeah, what are you doing?" she asked. And now, the troubles begin, I thought to myself, bracing for a week of manual labor--washing, ironing, dusting, cleaning--will it ever end?

When I told them, Daniel nearly fell off his chair in excitement because he immediately realized it would benefit him.

"I think I'm going to like this thing," he said. "This is going to be awesome!"

And then he laughed like an evil mad scientist for a few seconds before stopping himself, and saying, "No, it's not that funny."

The brain of a 7-year-old is the eighth wonder of the world.

"Can I stay up late tonight?" Daniel immediately asked. "Can I stay home from school tomorrow?"

Good thing Linda was there to answer, or this would quickly have become Daniel's dream week.

Linda offered a surprisingly tepid reaction to my plans; she worried that by answering yes to whatever she asked, I'd simply be humoring her.

When she asked if that was the case, of course I had to say yes. "So you won't be telling me the truth about how you really feel?" she asked.

Yes again--she wasn't picking up on how this conversation was going to go.

That's when I realized I'm in big trouble if she tries on an outfit this week and asks, "Does this make me look fat?"

Day 2

Linda and Daniel initially took different approaches with their newfound power.

Linda is like a person dipping her toe in the pool, testing it little by little, wondering if there's something lurking in the water she can't see.

I can see her working out the concept: After eight years of marriage, he finally has to listen to me and do whatever I say? What's the catch?

I think for her it's more unnerving than having a college roommate nicknamed Psycho.

Her requests have been minimal. She asked me to sweep the house, but it's not as if she's forcing chores on me like I'm her personal Cinderfella.

Once, just to test me, she asked me to stand and wait while she worked on her computer. So I stood there, waiting, watching, hovering .... "Oh, will you please go somewhere else?" Yes!

If Linda was slow getting into the water, Daniel was doing cannonballs off the high dive.

I asked if he wanted to play a game and he decided he did. "And, Daddy, can you set it up and clean it up when we're done?"

Before dinner, he asked, "Daddy, can you not have any chips all week?" and laughed himself silly.

Dinner brought their two approaches together like a rain cloud over me. Smiling so hard he could barely get out the words, Daniel asked, "Daddy, can I watch TV after dinner?"

Linda, noticing I'd shoved some vegetables aside, said, "Can you please eat more celery?" She followed up with, "Could you please not eat any butter?" as I went to butter my bread.

Now I know how Coca-Cola executives felt after seeing New Coke bomb: What was I thinking when I came up with this idea?

For an instant, the power trippers tripped up each other.

As soon as Linda asked me to bypass the butter, Daniel jumped in: "Daddy, can you please eat more butter?" "Could you not eat any more?" Linda retorted. "No, don't listen to her," Daniel shrieked, "Can you eat more?"

I'm Frankenstein's monster and they're playing Ping Pong with my brain.

Daniel ended the day still reveling in his almighty power. "Daddy, can I have dessert?" As I trudged off to get it, I heard him say to Linda, "Mommy, we are living the life!"

Day 3

What's the first word most babies learn? No. It makes sense, since that's what they hear much of the day.

"No, don't touch the oven." Or, "No, don't eat that," or maybe, as was the case with our son, "No, Daniel, don't lick the cat."

It's amazing what kids learn when we're not teaching them. When Caitlin was 3, she and I were playing together while I watched college football on three or four different channels all afternoon.

As we moved around the room at her dolls' tea party, I kept saying, "Please hand me the remote," or simply, "Remote, please," so I could flip back and forth to the different games.

After a while, she asked for some ice cream. We were still trying to teach her manners, so I said, "Okay, but first, what's the magic word?"

She paused, thought for an instant, and said questioningly, "Remote?"

I'm reminded of that because it took Daniel just two days during my Yes week to learn when it's best to ask me questions: when Mom's not around to say no.

Last night, as soon as Linda left the room, Daniel turned to me quickly and said, "Can I have dessert again tonight?"

We try not to let him eat dessert every night, so he knows this week is his chance to bend the rules. He's cashing in like a politician spending other people's money.

Of course, he probably learned his tricks from me when I didn't even know I was teaching him.

For example, we ate dinner at our friend Katy's house last night, and she got a laugh out of my Yes week. "Oh, we can have fun with this," she said to Linda.

I knew I had to derail the conversation before the two animal lovers had me saying yes to owning four dogs, three cats, two pandas, and an emu.

Being the thoughtful guest, I preyed upon their weakness. "Wow, Katy, that's a great picture of your dog. That's so long ago--how old was she then?"

To quote legendary wordsmith Emeril, "Bam!" The conversation went off in another direction, and I escaped unscathed and emu-free.

I may not be able to say no, but there are plenty of ways to avoid saying yes.

Days 4 & 5

I was a little worried heading into poker night with the guys. It's not good to provide ammunition to a group that would mock the Dalai Lama.

I'll be like a wounded animal in the wild having to answer, "Yes," to whatever they ask.

It started when Phil e-mailed to say what time he'd pick me up. "You'll sit in the back--yes?" he wrote. I was just glad he didn't ask if I'd like to be tied to the back bumper.

I arrived and Brian's 8-year-old son Robert quickly ran to get something. I knew that was a bad sign.

He returned holding a Dallas Cowboys baseball cap and I was handed a Dallas Cowboys mug that was mine for the night.

Prodded on by his Dallas-loving dad, Robert asked, "Mr. Roach, do you like the Cowboys?" I mustered a weak, "Yes."

"Do you want to wear this hat?" An even weaker, "Yes." I guess this proves something has to be wrong with you to be a Cowboys fan.

Fortunately, that was as bad as things got. Maybe the guys are getting soft as they age and get softer around the middle.

Or maybe they're getting forgetful. Or maybe they realized admitting to be a Cowboys fan is punishment enough.

Day 6

Linda got a taste of the Yes life today. As Daniel was getting ready for bed, he decided he wanted to give her a homework assignment.

He told her she had to write a three-part essay on what a Lego pirate ship should have, what a Lego Space Police ship needs, and what a Lego Power Miner should have.

And her essay had to be finished before he woke up the next morning.

"Unlike me, you could have said no," I reminded her when she told me of her task.

"When your son asks you to write an essay, you do it," she said.

Sure enough, Linda wrote her assignment in detail, explaining what was needed and why. She completed it more diligently than probably most of her homework in college.

I asked Daniel in the morning if he saw all of Mommy's work. Was he proud of what she did for him?

"I read it already," he said, picking up the paper, looking at it dismissively, then dumping it back on the table. "B-minus."

Turns out, he was nicer to Linda than it appeared to me. He awarded Linda a Lego badge, though he also threw out a challenge.

"I like the blast-off shoes in the Space Police section, but you can get a better grade by re-doing the pirate and Power Miner sections," he said.

And he didn't let her forget her chance for improvement. "Mommmmm," he said, chasing her all morning. "You can do better."

Sometimes "No" is a beautiful word.

Day 7

As anyone with kids knows, you spend an inordinate amount of your time with them answering questions.

That's not a bad thing, but it's frustrating when you say no, and the question gets asked again four minutes later, then again 12 minutes later, then once again just because the kid hopes to wear you down from a no, to a maybe, to a yes.

They know how to manipulate the system better than an Enron executive. Once, I overheard Daniel say to a friend, "When my Dad says, 'Maybe,' it means yes."

So it was a nice break for one week to be relieved of my behavior-monitoring duties as a dad.

And I know Daniel enjoyed Yes Week, too, considering all the times he asked me to have dessert, to stay up late, and to watch TV. He controlled me like I was a Wii remote.

However, he's not a fan of trying the idea himself.

As he was got ready to start making cookies with Linda Sunday, I told him to just say yes to whatever Mom says and to learn what she's doing. "You can do what I've been doing all week," I said.

"A kid could never do that all week," Daniel said. "It's impossible, dude."