So, what, I'm mean!?

My son goes to bed at 8:30.  That is his bedtime during the week.  No questions asked.  Okay, occasionally, I'll let him stay up until 8:45.  But that's the latest.

Last night, at about 7:45, he asked to have some construction paper pulled out so he could do a craft.  Chris pulled it out for him, and Andrew took it to his room, presumably to do some craft.  I must add here, that my son is extremely...  creative.  He makes the oddest and awesomest crafts.  They are also very, very messy.  One time, he took some bright blue paper, and cut it up into bits and pieces and stood them up on the living rooms floor.  It was a town, and it had to stay up at least until Daddy got home.  Boy, I tell you, living in an apartment with a small living room and a million little pieces of paper all over the floor...  Not really an ideal situation.  Anyway, I've gotten off course here.  So, he went to his room to do this presumed craft.  Two minutes later, he comes back out to the living room to play with a top.  Okay, whatever, play with the damn top.  THEN, he decided he wanted to watch Daddy on the computer.  By this time, it was about 8:15.  

"Alright, Andrew, it's time to get ready for bed!"
"But I didn't get to do my craft!!!" (this is said in his BEST whiny voice)
"Well, you started that 45 minutes ago!  It's time for bed!"
"But I want to do my craft!!!"
"BEDTIME!"
(Walks away...)
(Comes back...)  "You know, you COULD try being a little nicer to your kid!"
(Storms off...)
"ANDREW LEE KOTLAR, GET YOUR BUTT BACK HERE!"

Let me stop the replay of the conversation for a minute here.  My son, as much as I love him, and as much of a child he is, I swear, he's a teenager in that child's body.  That attitude that he has...  Oh boy.  I'm in trouble when he gets older.

So, this is where I get the evil glare.  "WHAT!?!"
"What did you just say to me?"
"I don't want to say it.  I'll get in trouble."
"You're going to get in trouble if you don't tell me."
"I said you could be nicer to me."
"Why did you say that?"
"I don't know."
"Well think about it."
"It just sometimes...  my brain tells me to say things...  and I don't know why!"
"Hmmm.  Well, okay, since I'm so mean...  How would you like me to be like Yelling Mom?  Would you like that?"
"No."
"Would you like a mom who never spends time with you?"
"No."
"How about a mom who drinks beer all the time?"
"No."
"Well, I'm not very mean.  Am I?"
"No."
"Go to bed."
(Storms off...)

Ay yi yi...  What am I going to do in eight year?!?!