It's a darn good thing I love my four year old, because he's going through a 'twerp' stage again.
Tonight everything was lovely - he greeted me at the door, gave me a hug, told me about his day, and we talked for a minute before Bugs Bunny snagged his attention again. Bear (who had been home all day with the kids) got ready to go see his Dad (my FIL is in the hospital - pneumonia, which has become an annual event this time of year) kissed the kids goodbye (Cass supremely unconcerned) and went on his merry way.
Half an hour later, I turned off the tv and announced it was time for bed. R headed for the stairs (she just thinks it's cool to read books in Cass's room before bed) and my boy, the one who had been so pleasant, fell immediately into a whiny sniveling heap.
He shot me an injured look. "But where's Daddy?"
I resisted the urge to look under the couch cushions (Nope, no Daddy here!) and told him Daddy had gone to see Papa. When Daddy got home, I was sure he would come and kiss Cass good night.
Cassidy was not happy with this news. 'But I want Daddy!'
No, Cass. Now come on, up the stairs. Do you want to be first?
No eager footsteps behind me. I waited. Rosey shifted from foot to foot like she was waiting for a gun to go off so she could speed up the stairs.
I waited.
His brow was all scrunched up now. Talking through his teeth, he said 'But I want Daddy!'
I clipped my teeth together. "And I want you to go upstairs!"
Even Rosey was still. I expected to hear Western gunfight music come up.
The cowpoke in the Spiderman pyjamas moved first. 'Oh, all right!"
Stomp stomp, up the stairs.
Three stories and prayers later, I turned out the light, gathered the baby, and whispered goodnight.
A little voice came floating out the door after me.
"Daddy would have read more books."
See? Whatta twerp.
It's a good thing I like him.
5 comments:
i'm impressed! what would you have done if the cowpoke in the spiderman pajamas hadn't blinked? that's what i'm nervous about (for down the line, obviously)
btw, the story reminded me a bit of some of the anecdotes in frank mccourt's newest book (teacher man) where one kid is challenging him and the rest of the class looks on to see what he will do...
I wanted to comment on your previous post, about breast feeding but I can't get the page to load all the way, so I'm going to say here--Thank you for saying all of that.
I tried to breast feed both my sons. Henry was in the NICU for ten days, so I was pumping (which was horrific, by the way) and my milk never really came in. But the guilt did, and I pumped for nearly five months, until my breasts got wise to how stressful and stupid this was, and the milk dried up. But the guilt didn't.
With Charlie, we battled the latching issues and the bleeding nipples, but the real killer was that he would nurse for an hour, sleep for 20 minutes and want to nurse again. Because there wasn't enough millk! Ha ha, so not funny.
But by then I was over the guilt (or that guilt, at least) and had moved on. And you know what? My sons are healthy and happy and smart. And I am not insane. And all of those things are good.
Sorry to hijack. Thank you for writing about this.
Happy New Year!
Susan -
It amazes me that women beat each other up like this.
I was reading a blog not too long ago where the new mom was saying "I've had enough - This hurts! I don't like it, and it doesn't seem worth it." From the tone of the entry, you could really tell she'd just had it. There were fifteen or so comments saying things like "Ooh, I had it bad, and it gets easier" - the answers all seemed very pat, with no real consideration for her pain and exhaustion.
I'm not anti-breast feeding. I just refuse to see it as the only way worth taking.
cat -
Oh, I can always wait him out.
If things had degenerated further he would have gone to time out. (Usually the threat of this gets him going!)
He also likes to be first up the stairs and amaze me with how fast he can go, something that's hard to do when he's still downstairs!
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