Negotiation

After a couple weeks off, due to end-of-semester stress, I was able to participate in this week's F3 challenge.

Prompt: Write a story of a negotiation and have your characters use at least two tactics
Genre: Any
Word Count: 1000 words
Deadline: Thursday, May 19th, 2011, 4:30 pm EST

Negotiation

"Aw, but Mom--" my eight-year-old son's voice trailed off into the kind of high-pitched whine only a dog could hear.

"Doesn't matter. Not gonna happen." I put the dozen (non-cracked, I checked) eggs in the shopping cart and pushed forward. Onward. Must not cave.

His shoulders slumped and his feet dragged. He deliberately flapped his camo flip-flops in an annoying shuffle while his lower lip extended out and down. His blue-and-white striped shirt and clashing purple shorts dripped with misery and his tangled blonde hair--in desperate need of a haircut--covered his eyes. A good thing, in my opinion. I didn't need to see his pleading blue eyes almost fill with tears.

I turned the cart into the cereal aisle, bracing for the next wave of beggary. He saw the sugar-coated treats in neon boxes and perked up, skipping with tall shoulders and bright eyes.

"Mom!" He stopped, starting at the Cocoa Puffs.

"No."

"But, what if--"

"No."

"I'll be good. I'll have a good attitude for the rest of the day. I'll even help you with dishes." He turned his eager face to me, holding the giant box aloft like a triumphant soldier returning from war.

Oh, negotiating, are we? Two can play this game.

"I don't know about that. You know I don't like sugar cereal." I paused.

"I know." He hung his head in mock discouragement, but his eyes peered up at me.

"You know, I like the idea of help with dishes. And the garbage needs to be taken out. The recycling, too." I leaned against the cart.

"I can do that, Mom. All of it." He put on his serious face.

"Your room is a mess, too."

"I'll clean it. And your room, too."

I laughed. "I don't know about that."

"Seriously, Mom, your room is a mess. You need to clean it." He wagged his finger at me. I wondered where he got it from. I shook my head.

"I'll get to it," I told him. "I'm too busy cleaning the cat litter box and your bathroom."

"Okay, I'll clean my bathroom, too."

Ooh, an offer to clean his bathroom. Gold!

"Okay. But not Cocoa Puffs. You can get a box of LIFE cereal." I pointed to the better choice.

"Two boxes." He put his dirty hands on his little hips and tilted his head. "One box of Cocoa Puffs is worth at least two boxes of LIFE."

I sighed. "Okay. Deal."

He stuck his hand out and I took it, shaking once. He skipped down the aisle, thinking he got a good deal.

I knew better.