Your first step was understanding what your mom and dad were saying. ("This is a spoon, Estelle. Say, 'Spoon.'") Your next step was complying with what they were saying. ("Hand mommy the spoon, Estelle. Good girl.") Now you are considering your options: whether or not you will comply with your mom and dad's instructions. ("Hand mommy the spoon, Estelle. Estelle? I said hand mommy the spoon. Come back here.")
When you disobey your mom, your dad will usually turn away and chuckle. When you disobey your dad, your mom turns her face away too, while her shoulders shake with quiet laughter. Your dad is confused, wondering why he's so proud of you for being disobedient. But it's not the disobedience he's proud of. He's proud of you understanding what your mom and dad are saying, considering the pros and cons of complying with what they are saying, then making a binary decision as to whether their requests suit your purposes or not.
For the time being, getting chased with a spoon in your hand trumps handing over a spoon. There's no adventure in compliance. And every story worth reading must, at some point, introduce conflict. And so, one year after becoming a human being -- becoming a human being from scratch -- you have learned one of the primary tenants of storytelling (conflict), and are fully practicing that same willful disobedience that gave a serpent and two humans so much trouble in paradise all those years ago.
Perhaps, back in paradise, God had turned his head and chuckled a little bit, secretly proud that his little creation was thinking for itself.
