I wonder if the act of resistance is, somehow, inherent in all sentient beings.
The SYO and I often get into little battles that bring to mind something I learned in the one judo class I had in college: that it takes effort on both sides to hold up a wall. In other words, if one person were to stop resisting, pushing, whatever, the wall falls.
Note: this may be an obvious lesson to the more mature parent.
I was surprised, though, to see how fast Big learned the art of resistance, and have come to wonder if it is some sort of survival instinct ingrained in us.
Putting pants on his chubby little thighs sometimes becomes a battle of gladiatorial proportions. To do so, I first get one pantleg all ready. Like a woman putting on nylons, rolling them down to the toe and then carefully pulling upward so as not to put a run in the hose. Once I switch to the other leg, I'm doomed as his little wheels kick and drag as if he were attempting to treadwater in the midst of a hurricane. No matter what attempts I make with my paltry two hands to keep the one leg on while putting on the other, he nearly always wins and wins big. Not only does he get the original off, but more often than not, he dismisses any progress I've made on the second leg with a little half-smirk and a giggle as if to say in his best "W":
BRING IT ON!