The other day, my four year old son used reverse psychology on me.
And I never saw it coming.
It happened after church when he asked if I wanted to go out to lunch.
There are few things more universally debated—and secretly hoped for—on a Sunday morning than lunch.
Post-benediction, everyone is hungry. And not to go home and eat whatever leftovers have been sitting in the refrigerator since Tuesday.
Deep down, we all know the truth. We probably should just go home. But when church let out and the question of lunch came up, my son saw an opportunity.
I said no.
Not because I didn’t love him. Not because I didn’t want lunch.
I just said no. Maybe I was tired and sore. Maybe I wasn’t in the mood to research restaurants with accessible restrooms and entrances. Maybe I had briefly forgotten that lunch is one of life’s great joys.
Whatever the reason, no lunch. We were going home.
Then my son turned the whole thing around.
He looked at me and said, “Well, we’ll drop you off, and Daddy and I will go out for a wonderful lunch without you.”
I paused.
That was not what I expected.
“You’ll be home all by yourself while we have a nice time, Mommy,” he continued.
I could feel my decision weakening.
“Do you want that?” he asked. “To be all alone? When we are at a rest-straunt?”
Then he delivered the final blow.
“No,” he said. “I don’t think so. You want to come with us. Yes?”
And there it was: the trap.
He had painted a vivid picture of me sitting at home alone while he and his father enjoyed a wonderful lunch without me filled with smiles and aromas and fresh food.
Abandonment. Loneliness. Or delicious food and laughter and togetherness.
Honestly, it was effective.
This is how reverse psychology works. You think you’re standing firm, and then someone says, “Fine. We’ll go without you,” and suddenly you’re jolted into a state of FOMO.
That is a powerful skill.
A slightly manipulative skill, but still powerful.
So, dear son, congratulations.
Some people learn negotiation in business school. Some study psychology.
My four year old learned it in the church parking lot, where apparently the most advanced course in emotional persuasion is offered right after children’s worship.
And, bless his heart, he genuinely thought he was going to win.
We still came home. We ate the leftovers.
And somewhere between the spaghetti and broccoli and tacos I think we both learned a valuable lesson:
Don’t use reverse psychology on your mother.
