It’s easy to let my guard down, or get sidetracked with other things and forget…and then I get slapped in the face and brought back down to reality.
This weekend was nice…mostly peaceful and I was able to get the house cleaned and get some things done that needed doing. This morning was the last “Monday” of the school year, and I was pretty stoked about the whole idea of that. It’s as though it were the last crappy day of the year! (Even though it’s not, but you get the idea) I woke all the kids up with the same “Get up! It’s the last Monday of school!” And everything went pretty smoothly. All the kids caught their respective buses, save for Little B, who I have been bringing to school for the past few months because he can’t handle the long morning bus ride, and tends to act out constantly. When it was time to leave to bring him to school, I went through our regular routine, which is imperative with this child: Coffee milk; pen and paper to write or draw while I’m in the shower; Change his clothes; pause (not record) the current show he’s watching on tv, and then turn off the tv; let him pick out his snack for school; and then head out. This morning, however, he pulled a fast one on me. When I asked, “What do you want for your snack today?” he answered, “Whatever you want to pick out for me is fine.” Huh. That was different. I really thought for a moment that this might be a good sign. Maybe he’s loosening up a bit, maybe he’s not as occupied about a regimen as I thought. I grabbed a Go-Go Squeez (Strawberry flavored apple sauce in a cool single serving squeeze-in-your-mouth package), put it in his booksack, and we headed out the door.
Halfway to the vehicle, he asked, “What did you pick out for my snack?” “A Go-Go Squeez.” I innocuously replied. He stopped. He looked at me. He stomped his foot and crossed his arms across his chest. “WHAT?!” I said. “I DID NOT WANT A GO-GO SQUEEZ!” He began to run into the neighbor’s yard. I had to chase him down and practically drag him back to the truck. “B! You told me to pick out whatever I wanted to for you!” “BUT NOT A GO-GO SQUEEZ! I DO NOT WANT THAT, I’M SICK OF THAT!” “Well, I don’t know what to tell you, man, it’s time to go!” I put him in the truck, where he quickly threw his booksack to the other side, and fought me as I tried to buckle him in. He kicked the seat in front of him and moaned and grunted the ENTIRE WAY to school. When we pulled into the parking lot, he refused to take off his seatbelt. He said that he wasn’t going to school. I told him to get his backpack and get ready to get out. He refused.
When I pulled up to a teacher in the car line, he took off his seatbelt and slid over to the opposite side of the truck. She and I together had to force him out of the vehicle.
This will ruin his entire day. I’m not even exaggerating. He will be a nightmare to deal with. I can barely handle these problems, so I can’t imagine how bad it must be for the people at school. I owe his teacher and the others who have to deal with this 3 or 4 days out of a week a huge debt of gratitude. It’s amazing that no one has strangled him yet. It’s really really a nightmare some days.
He’ll be 6 on June 2nd. He counts down the days until his birthday. He hand-wrote an invitation the other day that read: ” I am haveing a birthday. Come to my house.” He told me to make a bunch of copies and give them to everyone he knows. He’s so excited about it. He hugs me and kisses me and tells me how much he loves me all the time. He’s a sweetheart and when he’s not upset it’s IMPOSSIBLE not to fall in love him.
On the bad days, however, you’d think he was 2. It’s impossible to reason with him, and my newfound strategy of changing the subject and moving on helps sometimes, but not all the time.
Note to self: Never…EVER….under ANY circumstances…Pick out Little B’s snack for him again. It would have been better to forget to put a snack altogether. Maybe. Who the hell knows? Surely not me.