"Hey pal," I called out, forcing myself to smile, "you gonna get your head in this or what?"
There was no response, naturally. Big surprise! I felt my heartbeat quicken. Be diplomatic, I reminded myself, or he's gonna run straight to Mommy and then there's that to deal with. Keep it light. Maybe the humorous approach would do the trick...
"Hey buddy, I'm talking to you. You deaf or just dumb?" I laughed to show him I was only being half-serious.
Well, guess what. The poor, abused kid whose father was hitting fungoes to him on his one day off just kept standing there. Then the manipulative little fucker's face got all red and his eyes filled up with tears. It was an Oscar-caliber performance.
Super--if he wanted to act like a baby I was going to treat him like one. "Dad, I told you, I'm tired," I began to imitate him in an exaggerated whine. (It's possible that a note of contempt may have crept into my voice at this point.) "I don't feel like trying," I continued, "because I don't care if I improve or learn how to do it right. I'd rather play video games because it's easier." Now the waterworks began in earnest. Un-fucking-believable.
Frankly I was beginning to sicken of the whole thing, and my tone of voice became weary. "Congratulations, Joe. You made me lose my temper. You happy?" But something about the look on his face suggested he was only half listening, which set me off again. I actually may have snapped a bit here--probably counterproductive I admit, but I was as fed up as anyone else in my shoes would have been. "Huh?" I roared. "Answer the question. Yes or no. Are you fucking happy?" I began to walk towards him. "Do you know what I would do right now if I were you? If I were you I'd GET...THE...BALL."
That got a response all right. The little kid took off like a rabbit.