“He’s only four.”
I keep telling myself as I walk around the house to find whatever he broke this morning while I was napping with the baby. Today it was my stevia in the kitchen and my sewing machine stuff in the dining room. -Sigh-
“What am I going to do with this boy!?” I say to myself.
I’m not the most patient of people. I admit, that is probably my greatest downfall regarding motherhood.
Besides that I never really liked children. That’s besides the point 😛 I’ve always liked my children… Until he hit the “Fucking Fours,” anyway.
Four years old.
Say it with me, FOUR.
Shivers are running up and down your spine, right? As you hear that lamp in the living room being smashed to pieces and step on those sharp jagged toys strewn across your floor as you try to make your way to the kid to put him in time out.
“I give up!!!!”
That’s pretty much my daily mantra. Besides, “Where did my beautiful, neat, nice, considerate, careful,[list good things here], little boy go? I don’t remember spawning a monster that was hell-bent on destroying the universe.”
Don’t get me wrong. Compared to other peoples’ kids? My son is a saint…sometimes.
He’s only 4, remember?
Besides destroying things, he’s a really good helper, official “find the binky” binky finder, “can you please get me a toilet paper” toilet paper go-getter, he’s good with his numbers, alright with his letters, and constantly surprises you with random, “I love you mommy.” Out of no where that can instantly melt your heart.
He takes care of me as best he can when I’m sick… As long as the TV breaker is turned off…
He always takes my side when I’m arguing with daddy. (haha 🙂 )
He helps me find things that I’ve lost (usually he stole them to begin with, or lost them himself.)
Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t be able to live without my son. He’s my baby.
But the little f****r is BAD, most of the time, and I find myself pulling out my hair more than swooning over how adorable he is. His bad habits overwhelm the fact that he’s actually a pretty good boy, better than most, as stated earlier. However, for us, with his history, it’s uncharacteristic to even come close to behaving how other peoples’ children behave. I don’t think age can completely erase how you are raised. Can it?
Even MY mom is noticing lately, “He doesn’t listen at all!”
No, really? I’ve been telling you that since the “Terrorizing Threes”, Mother.
I’ve tried letting him do what he wants in hopes that he’ll make good choices.
I’ve tried time-outs.
I’ve taken his things away, thrown away toys.
Sat him down to talk.
Eventually we even tried spanking.
ABSOLUTELY NOTHING WORKS WITH MY SON.
Not one little thing.
He says, “Sorry.” and that he won’t do whatever it was, ever again.
Then goes straight back and does it again and seems surprised when he gets in trouble again.
I think my son is daft.
How do you get your kids to listen?
Or at least to not destroy the house… yard… garden….. ANYTHING?
Oh, and don’t get me started about how he behaves in public.
I really try to keep my cool, but it’s getting to the point where he’s about to outgrow highchairs and we’ll never go to another restaurant as long as we live until he moves out of my house when that happens!!
How can you stay mad at that perfect face? 😀