Home of the "no brave"

Whenever we were about to embark on something even slightly difficult with Jack, we used to say to him, "We have to be brave." I would tell him this if we were about to go on a particularly long car ride. If he was in his car seat and screaming that the sun was in his eyes, I would praise him, "You're such a brave boy."

Well, Jack's no dummy, and he quickly realized that it's not so fun to have to be brave.

I think the experience that fixed this suspicion into firm belief was his two-year appointment with the pediatrician. He had to have some blood taken from his finger to test his iron levels. He was fine with the initial prick, but Jack is apparently a slow bleeder. The nurse ended up squeezing his finger - hard - for several minutes to get all the blood they needed. He cried and cried, and we kept trying to console him with, "You're so brave, what a brave boy."

A couple of months later, I took Jack back to the doctor because he had a cough he couldn't shake. I had no idea that he would even remember the place, but as soon as we turned into the parking lot, he started yelling, "No brave! No brave!"

Now, he tells us, "No brave!" whenever he thinks we're going to ask him to endure something unpleasant. We went to our friends' house in Poway today, a drive during which bravery had often been urged in the past. When he recognized the route we were taking, he once again shouted, "No brave!"

He is chicken, hear him squawk.