Et Tu, Q?

My sweet, placid, biddable boy has decided to try some stubborn on for size. Wah!

On the way up to take a bath this evening, Q suddenly realized that he was actually walking up the stairs under his own steam and stopped flat. On stair 7 of 16 he decided that he could not possibly get up the remaining 2/3 of the stairs (despite having done so eleventy-gazillion times earlier in the day) and needed to be carried. His sick and tired mama told him nothin' doin' and headed on up. Q sat down on that seventh step and started howling like a werewolf cub.

Z and I went on upstairs. She cleaned up her room and I straightened Q's. Q kept sitting and howling.

I ran a bubble bath. Z got undressed, went potty, and hopped in. Q kept sitting and howling.

Z played with the newly empty bubble bath bottle and built towering castles of bubbles. I called Q to come play in the bubbles. Q kept sitting and howling.

It got dark outside (and thus in the hallway), so I flipped on a light and entreated Q to come play. Z shrivelled up into a prune and the bubbles went flat. Q kept sitting and howling.

I washed Z up and she went and changed into her jammies. We brushed and flossed her teeth. Q kept sitting and howling.

Z and I went into her room and selected the evening's books. We cuddled in her chair and read all three of them. Q kept sitting and howling.

Finally, one hour later, when I was just about ready to put Z in bed, Q wandered into Z's room. Cheerful as can be, he said, "Poopie," in a voice that sounded like he'd been snacking on crushed glass and walked to his room.

I quickly tucked Z in and followed Q down the hall. No fighting. No fussing. Got him cleaned up and into his jammies and read his books. Then he went to bed without a peep.

WTF?