Alas, not Grace Slick style.
Bones was up at midnight wanting to crawl into my bed. I was in the middle of a heavy, heavy sleep and it was like being drawn out of quicksand. Experience tells me that him sleeping with me the night before school the next day results in both of us tossing and turning and sleeping like shit, and then both being crabby and uber tired the next day. So I said no, but I would usher him back to bed and tuck him in. He was SUPER PISSED about this. He’s going through this phase where, when he doesn’t get his way about something even relatively small, he gets SUPER PISSED and he says and does terrible things. Yesterday, we went outside to play after dinner, and we played and I could see he was getting tired and short-tempered, and I said it was time to go in. He got pissed and came at me, all furious fists, and I said well now it’s DEFINITELY time to go in, as no way are you getting your way after you hit me. I calmly started the walk home, and this child, the tantrums he threw behind me. The screaming and carrying on. It’s a wonder someone didn’t call the police. I just cooly walked ahead, using my third eye to make sure he was actually still progressing, and to make sure he didn’t walk into the road when a car was coming or whatever. “MOOOM! MOOOOOOOOOOM!” Laying on the sidewalk, red-faced and screaming. It was really a sight to see. He certainly has my lungs; I think the whole 900-plus apartment complex heard him screaming the whole way home. Good times, parenting. He was almost that pissed when he found I wasn’t going to let him in to my bed. Once you make a decision, going back on it is not a good idea, and as much as I wanted him to snuggle with, I know it was the right decision to send him back to bed, so we went to his room and he KICKED and SCREAMED and gnashed his terrible teeth and rolled his terrible eyes. I got up to leave and he asked me to sit next to him, nicely, so I laid down next to his bed and he carried on a few more minutes like that until he was almost asleep again, and then I crawled mostly quietly out of the room, damned old knees cracking the whole time.
He was completely over it this morning, probably didn’t even remember the whole thing, though my tired ass sure did. He spent every minute getting ready in as silly a fashion as he could. He was making up Japanese-sounding words and yelling them at the mirror while he was brushing his teeth, which he continued to do once he heard that it made me laugh. This kid, ever the clown. He raced back and forth in the apartment in different shoes, explaining to me why Nikes are faster than Sketchers. He tried a very complex argument to try to get me to agree to let him wear shorts today. When I came out of the bathroom from putting on my makeup, he was STANDING on the BACK of the couch with this impish grin. “Get down from there right now,” I said. He pratfell up the stairs and I laughed some more and called him Daffy Duck. So then he ran outside to the car yelling, “Miami Beach! Miami Beach!” like Daffy does in that one cartoon. Honestly my stomach hurt from laughing. Fucking kid cracks me up.
I’m hoping to get a run in at lunch, because of the freak warm day.
He’s eaten me out of house and home this week. I’ve got to go to the grocery. We’re both off tomorrow, so that will be the plan. And taking the recycling in and such. Errands with a maniac.