You know, I have made no bones about SIX being a rough age for us. The more I talk to other parents, the response seems to be, “duh.” So apparently SIX is a universally tough age, huh?
I have complained before about the Half Year Syndrome, and I now laugh at my former self, because what did I have to complain about at 5.5? A little snottiness or whatever?
SIX. The whole stinkin’ year. THAT was torture. I have not even mentioned some of Declan’s antics on this blog because we are approaching an age where some things cross the privacy line, where he doesn’t need me spewing “some things” everywhere. “Some things” like the attitude. The pushing boundaries. The lying. The rule breaking. But let me assure you – SIX WAS HARD.
Declan turned SEVEN in September. And while the rollercoaster has not quite smoothed out into, well, coasting sans roller quite yet – it’s better.
All of a sudden it’s like something clicked in his brain: If I have a conversation with them about my desires instead of whining or pouting or just flat out ignoring the rules, then HEY! MAYBE we can come to an agreement! WHAT. A. CONCEPT!
And maybe if I stop saying NO all the time just because I feel like trying to control the situation, maybe THEY will say YES more often. BRILLIANT!
And maybe if I stop being such a grump all the time, the WHOLE FAMILY will get along better. Heh. That last one is my favorite.
I was just telling a friend the other night about the horrors of SIX like I was having post traumatic stress disorder. But it really does feels like that. Coming out of a war zone, where maybe, MAYBE, we’ll have a lovely year at SEVEN like we did at FOUR.
I am scared to ask this, but where are you in your little war?
Any other ages I need to stock up on the army artillery for?