Don’t cross me
Lately, things have been said. Mean things. Threats, mainly. Only, I have not been the one demonstrating such hostility. Nor do I ever recall making such threats myself, on any occasion. But, nonetheless, there they are. Hanging in the air, mean words mismatched with a ridiculously cute and sweet 2-and-a-half-year-old voice.
“I’m gonna flick you off!” (he has no idea what this means, I have no idea where he heard this, if anywhere)
“I’m gonna smack you!” (again, NEVER been said in our house)
“I’ll cut down that tree and poke you in the eye!” (ouch)
“I’ll push you over and kick you in the leg!” (kicking when down, really?)
“I’ll spin you around and smack you!” (so as to disorient me? not a bad idea)
Why? No clue. Does there have to be a reason? Some days, he is tired. Some days, just so, so angry. Some days, everything is a crisis. Lately, mean words are daily, hourly.
Yesterday, I watched as a little girl cut in front of Milo to use the monkey bars at the playground. Without hesitation, Milo kicked her. Hard. She, being an older and more mature 5-year-old filly, turned around and without skipping a beat, kicked him back. Milo’s face dropped. He was shocked, appalled, and devastated. He looked at her, looked at me, then retreated to the sandbox… where he proceeded to throw sand at a random big boy. Who then threw sand right back at Milo. Milo, again shocked, said to the boy, “Hey! Don’t throw sand at me!”
So the little (big) boy said “Well, don’t throw sand at ME, DUDE!”
And I watch as Milo learns some valuable lessons on his very own. I am tired. So tired of time-outs and “lectures” and “no’s” and trying to catch him being good so that I can praise instead of just correct. I am tired. So I let him go. I let him get kicked. Because? I kind of want to kick him myself, frankly. And then I feel horrible and guilty because he is TWO and I am the adult, and all I really need is a break and a patience makeover. He is little, and angry. And so I hug him, and kiss him, and tell him how much I love him. And I teach him the right way, even though I am tired of being the mom sometimes. Because, well, I guess that’s what moms do.
I love you, Buddy.
The nice one