"If you throw this diaper in the trash, I'll let you hold Dad's chainsaw for a minute."
Camber, on the other hand, has proven to be a harder catch.
Me: "After you pick up the playroom, I"ll play Barbies with you."
Not Stupid Daughter: "I'll just play by myself."
After the old faithfuls of five year-old girl lures (free reign over my jewelry box, unrestricted access to my make-up) failed to generate any bites, I realized that desperate times called for desperate measures. For the next few days, if Camber makes it through the before school rituals without threatening to run away or actually following through with it, she gets to dress Cameron up in one of her doll outfits and call him "Cammie" for the afternoon.
English professors across the country will applaud my efforts to liberate my son from the oppressive confines of traditional gender roles. Everyone else will call my actions what they are: weird.