Our house is bursting with vehicles these days. I love all the little cars, and try to get in a little research so that I can identify the VW Safari as a VW Safari, and not a Hummer. That sort of thing. It's because of Hot Wheels that he goes nuts at certain cars in real life - VW Beetles, Hummers, old school Land Rovers and Jeeps. This morning we put the crane back together and Sweeney found the wrecking ball attachment, so we popped that on. Blissful.
Then it was time for Sweeney to finish his breakfast and get dressed and all of a sudden the "I can't" whiney stuff started, and I lost my cool in about a micronanosecond, and heard myself shout "Just do as I say" and he started crying. Now, I understand that the crying is more about him rebuffing me than being upset, and it's no different from him yelling at me, or running away from me. But we have a rule that Sweeney and I both talk about and agree is good for both of us - no hitting, no shouting - and I realised this morning that I've been shouting at least once a day for the last several days or so. Nothing ferocious, or abusive, or lasting longer than it takes to say something as abyss-forming as "Just do as I say". But still shouty and unpleasant.
So I just about did a little get-busy dance tonight when I held it together when Sweeney threw the usual wobbly at putting his jacket on before leaving preschool. And as we headed towards Martin's ward, and Sweeney insisted on stopping at all the inappropriate points he likes to stop at, and yelled at me and hit the deck when he couldn't reach the button on the lift, it occurred to me that Martin being sick again is now Doing My Head In, and I have to Do Something To Get My Head Back, because Sweeney's wearing it. So be aware, gentle readers, that I'm on the trail of what to do. I just don't expect it'll make good reading, so you'll likely never hear about this again.
In other news, we had a fiesta of cars after we got home, played some piano and tambourine, had a bath, then studied the Mini Cooper wrapping paper from Frank and Arthur. Turns out I can have the red one, Sweeney wants the orange one, Frank can have the yellow one and Arthur can choose from the blue or green ones. Blissful.
1 comment:
I don't want to shout either, but sometimes I do when things are so stressful. Parenting is harder than I thought in many ways. As long as we're trying, though. That's what counts. And as Miss. Smith says, being a perfect parent would be the worst thing we could do for our children. The way she says it makes a lot more sense, but I can't remember, exactly...
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