I have to be honest, yesterday and this morning was a true test of my patience. BOY was in rare form beginning yesterday around 12:45PM until this morning. He was fine in the morning, happy when I picked him up, and a joy when we grabbed pizza between school and baseball. Oh, what a good boy BOY is.
We get to baseball and all is well. He’s running, he’s laughing, he’s being silly and having a grand old time. All was well until…gasp…he slipped while rounding second base during baseball. He laid there about 15 seconds and seemed fine. This boy falls all the time, voluntarily and not. He does it on purpose. He gets a kick out of it. He revels in it. He makes everyone in shouting distance laugh hysterically by his light hearted antics, Abbott and Costello style!
Yesterday, not so much.
For some reason, he decided to get really upset. He cried a bit. but seemed to got over it. Not so. He then he refused to play for the rest of the time. He became a pouting, angry, sulking heap. He asked to leave, I made him sit there. I didn’t want to give in to this mood of his. Also, I wanted him to stay in the hopes of him snapping out of it while seeing all the others have fun.
He didn’t budge and neither did I.
He was being fresh in the car and I bit my tongue…then he fell asleep. Ahhh…that’s it, he must have been exhausted. So, I drove around for an hour, hoping that this would be the magic elixir to his mood of crap. It wasn’t, completely.
For the rest of the day he had his little moments of defiance. I let most of them slide with just a stern warning. I don’t take that stuff, but I didn’t make a big deal about it.
We were fine until bed time. Then the crapola hit the fan.
He was in rare form all of a sudden. He wanted to watch TV. He didn’t want to take his Pink Eye drops. He’s being defiant, he’s being fresh, he’s acting cranky. And I was not in the mood. I started wailing and we blew up at each other. I made him go to bed.
I felt bad. He felt bad. We all felt bad. I’m not a pushover, but I’m not a meanie, either. I like to think of myself as a happy mix of discipline and fun-loving swell guy. I went into his dark room where he was wide awake and staring at the ceiling, pouting. We made amends. I didn’t apologize for reprimanding him, because he was bad, but we came to an understanding how that is not something I like to do. He didn’t like it either. We hugged, kissed, got some gummy bear calcium vitamins, and had a nice good night.
He woke up fine and all was well. Until he blew up taking the drops again. I blew up again. We went to school all blown up, which never happens. I said he would be the only kid that didn’t have a show and tell…take that! (I knew there was a baseball medal in the car, so he would not be the only one). He didn’t budge. He was upset again and so was it.
We were late on top of it all. Before we got out of the car, we had another heart to heart and I think finally came to an understanding about how I don’t like to fight with him and that I don’t like to yell. I don’t like to see him upset. This time I said I was sorry for getting so angry. So did he. I said I loved him and so did he. And that we are buddies, best buddies. I kissed him a few times and he smiled. I smiled. He found a monster truck on the floor to bring to school. I carried him in to class, which never happens, and all the right with the world.