I love my kid. Really, really I do. But, today, I’d like to lodge a complaint with God or whomever I need to file a formal complaint with. (I say that because I might just have to file a complaint with his Daddy, I’m not sure of the legalities yet.) Because, seriously? Dear Internets, this youngin has got something burred up his butt and I’m not sure how to remove it without kicking him square on the seat of his pants.
See, today, we went out to Cheyenne to get out of the house (which still felt like an oven at 4PM, even with the new curtains, because Wyoming has decided to have hot flashes this year) and maybe see the live band they have on Fridays.
We stopped to grab a bite to eat (Mama don’t cook when it’s ten ba-jillion degrees in her house, she just don’t), and I noticed that Thing 1 had been really quiet and … well, kind of surly. I didn’t think anything of it until the Snapiness set in. Meaning everytime I spoke to him, he snapped back a response.
I mean, look, for a five year old that has had very little discipline problems, it probably wasn’t as bad as I am thinking it is, I just know that tonight, he was off. He didn’t want to dance when the
crappy band started up. He snapped responses back to me and yelled at me to do something (honestly? I can’t remember right this second, but it had something to do with the Kid’s Meal toy) and he just acted…..well, like a fifteen year old instead of a five year old.
Which I’m all ready to deal with, when he’s fifteen. I’m not ready for the surly, bad temper-ness at only five years old. I’ll smack someone a few times with something and it won’t be pretty if I have to deal with this for 10+ more years.
He’s entitled to bad moods, and I love him dearly no matter what.
Sometimes I just wish that he would have them when we decide to stay at home and do nothing all day.
I could deal with him storming off to his room and slamming the door.
Nope, wouldn’t bother me one bit to have a second of peace and quiet.