I picked Damian up from school yesterday as always, but this time I was running late so I didn't bother to grab a juice box on my way out. Besides, he usually doesn't ask for it these days. So of course he asked for said juice on the ten minute ride home and got mad at me when I said sorry, none in the car today. He claimed he was parched. He claimed he needed sustenance now, not in six blocks, else he'd wither to a desiccated husk of a boy. He claimed this was a horrific turn of events. I shrugged and told him (super calm) that we'd be home very soon and we had plenty of juice there. I could hear him scrabble around in the back seat. I knew what he was thinking. So I headed it off at the pass:
"Damian, if you throw something at me, you know what will happen, right?" (I'd take his beloved rubber frog away for five minutes. This is the consequence any time he hurts someone physically. Simple and effective albeit not entirely logically derived from the action.)
"Ohhhhhh." Pout. Pause. "But what can I do that will make you unhappy?"
How perfect an encapsulation is that of a child's desire to push a parent's buttons?
For the record, I said he couldn't make me unhappy, that I was in a good mood and that wasn't about to change. Then I turned on the music and started humming along. He became quickly involved in the song and that was the end of that hissy fit.
I've been more volatile myself lately, frustrated at how little time I have to do my work, frustrated with his flash-flood temper. Dan and I talked about this Sunday night. He reminded me to keep my cool. He was right. Clearly. Parent-goading is obviously a huge part of Damian's modus operandi right now. Nice of him to tell me that outright, don't you think?
Posted by Tamar at October 5, 2004 09:54 PM