That was a bad one.
After a fun evening of playing at his school’s “Winter Festival,” I took Declan home and prepared him for bed. He asked if he could play with his cards instead of reading a book during his breathing treatment. I said that was fine, but then we did not have time to read books afterwards. He said fine. I even made him repeat back what was going to happen in this little deal we made.
“I get to play cards during my breathing treatment, but then no books.”
We were crawling into bed and he said, “I want to read books!”
I reminded him of our deal.
You know what happened next.
The Screaming Maniac took over.
And I am not exagerating when I say I have never heard sounds from a child such as mine was making this evening.
I just walked out and said good night.
That didn’t help.
It went on and on and on. My favorite part was when he was wailing, “I feel better now!”
I called back, “Well, I don’t!”
I was trying to give him the silent treatment, not give him attention, not feed the behavior, etc etc. But I finally had to go in when I heard him whine, “Mommmmeeee. You must be downstairs and can’t hear me.”
I wanted to open the door and wave my finger in that sista motion and say “Nuh uh, child. I can HEAR you FINE. I am just IGNORING you.”
But I went in and calmed him down with some hugs. By then he was practically hyperventilating, so I figured some cuddles were in order. Sigh.
Maybe it will be better tomorrow.
It is, after all, Ice Cream Night.