Tuesday, August 28, 2007
The Bad Seedlings
Wow, today was a bad day.
My kids are pretty good kids. They really are. They are undeniably cute, always hysterical, and um, maybe 75% of the time, sweet and obedient. Now that I have the disclaimer out of the way, today they were absolute demon children.
I have pondered several possibilities for our very bad Tuesday:
1) The weird weather today and ensuing barometric pressure fluctuations caused their little brains to fry
2) School starting this week has overwhelmed and overtired them
3) They all have just enough of a cold or allergies to be really grouchy yet still very energetic
4) Their dad has neglected to inform me that he is indeed Satan and they are therefore Spawn of Satan.
I am putting my money on #4.
Shepherd is usually the easiest one but lately is trying out his new lying skills at any given opportunity. Well, he does need the practice, he is a truly terrible liar. I know that lying is a normal thing for 4 year olds to do, etc etc. The boy is right on track developmentally, I guess that is good. He originally went through a lying stage about six months ago, so we have a precocious little sinner. We're so proud. But he is simultaneously trying out another crime, to look right at Mommy and nonchalantly say "No" to anything that is requested of him. It's so adorable.
Combine this with Eva Rose, my bipolar hypochondriac bandaid demanding wardrobe malfunctioning two year old drama queen of a daughter. She turns three in nine days and I can't wait because I am certain that on September 5, 2007 all the mayhem that we have experienced since her second birthday will instantly cease!
Maggie, the former perfect baby, has decided to join in the evil fun, and toddled around today hair pulling and tantrum throwing. Not only that, but she has started to use those Crayola markers to emulate Marilyn Manson. This can't be good, but today, seemed appropriate.
I had a horrible revelation this week, and that is that my son is totally not scared of me. I will be as mean as I possibly can - and I used to be a teacher, so I think I can be pretty mean - and I can tell by his face he is totally unintimidated. He even looks slightly amused! It's pretty infuriating. Imagine using your firmest voice, furrowing your meanest brow, wagging your finger to show you really mean business, and seeing your efforts produce the slightest glimmer of amusement in your preschooler's eyes. Grrrrrrrrr. I complained about this to Walker, who confirmed, "Oh yeah. Boys are totally not scared of their moms. I was never scared of my mom. I used to laugh at her when she tried to spank me." Great, wonderful. So how do I address this? "Tell him he'll get it when Daddy gets home." I never thought I would be one of those "just wait till your father gets home" moms. Well, desperate times call for desperate measures. Walker came home today at lunch just to meet out some justice.
Tomorrow morning, I go to the dentist to have a root canal. It will be a better day.