Re-entry into post holiday, back to normal life has not been easy for my boy. This week we have had a series of melt downs over everything from getting dressed to why the TV is unplugged in the morning to the harsh reality that, no matter how many times you yell or whine, mommy will still make you finish your homework.
Some days I feel like the entire time he is home is spent in a series of "Go have a think in your room" and "Briton! Inside voice!" I hate that. I hate that most of what he has heard from me this week has been consequences. Not that they weren't deserved, they were. But sometimes the hardest part of being a parent is having to be the bad guy and send your screaming son up to his room yet again to calm down so that homework can get finished.
But then, just when I'm almost at my breaking point, ready to wash my hands of the whole seven year old thing, he does something so redeeming that all the arguments and door slamming and instruction ignoring ceases to matter, and I remember what a great boy I have.
Last night Briton had Cub Scouts. It was a big deal to go last night because we were handing out pinewood derby cars and he didn't want to miss it. But he also did not want to pick up the heaps of toys he had dumped out in the playroom - just to dump something out- and it was touch and go up till the last moment over whether he would be allowed or if he would have to stay home and miss out on getting his car. He bent, I sighed, lectured and then let him follow me to the car.
When the cars were passed out, one of the boys younger brothers was hurt to find there wasn't one for him. I'd picked up the cars and had planned to try to get a few extras at the hobby shop before the meeting but between the homework battle and the playroom disaster, I didn't make it. I asked Briton to give his car to the boy, proposing that we get another, and one for his sister, tomorrow. Without a word of argument or self pity, he did it. He had been vibrating with excitement in the car over the prospect of getting his car and yet without a second thought, he gave it away.
He is a sweet boy. And I need to remember that, even when he is moaning in his room because I wont let him eat all the cookies or because I'm making him do his assigned work. Even then, even when he's yelling at the top of his lungs at me, he's still my sweet boy. And thank goodness for that.
And while we're talking fo Briton, this is what I found when I went to clean the playroom the other day.
I should probably be worried but instead, I just find it hilarious.