I have to confess, this did not happen yesterday but the night before. When it happened, I already had my post completed, saved and had it ready to go for the next day. I didn’t realize I would have such a blog-worthy evening with Full Speed. Lucky, lucky me.
I mentioned that he was slightly out-of-control at the doctor’s for his physical and the subsequent activities that followed. It’s almost that he has forgotten that I am the one in charge. He is acting up and being very, very silly. I do enjoy silly as humor is the honey that gets you through life, but what he is doing is different. It feels class-clownish, disrespectful and spastic. I don’t like the overall vibe. I’m guessing he is feeling nervous about his impending surgeries and he is expressing it via goofy antics. Even though I know this intellectually, it doesn’t always sink in for me in the middle of one of his spastic attacks.
Mad Dog was with our handy-man getting to the bottom of our flooded garage (which is finished- I know, it’s a Florida thing). I took the boys upstairs to bathe them. Right off the bat Full Speed is running around naked jumping all over. He runs up to his brother, konks T.Puzzle on the head and darts away. Since I had already had more than my fill of this type of behavior, he is immediately and harshly punished. He’s not allowed to play in the bath and he is only in it for cleansing purposes. He does not get to wear his Daddy’s jersey to bed (Daddy’s jerseys are like the holy grail to Full Speed) and he has to wear baby pajamas instead.
Of course he loses it and screams and cries and says he’s sorry. He starts yelling “Mommy, I LOVE YOU!” in the most pathetic and dramatic way he can muster. I say, “That’s nice; you’re still going straight to bed.”
At this point he is out of the tub and realizes that sucking up to Mom is not going to work. So he goes the opposite direction (all the while running around completely nude) and shouts, “Mommy, I DO NOT like you. I DO NOT like you anymore.” At some point during this whole fiasco, he tries to spit at me. I can put up with a lot, spitting for some reason pushes my buttons beyond limits.
I manage to tackle him into submission and force a onesie on him. In T.Puzzle’s room I had managed to uncover this onesie that has Grumpy the dwarf on it. Both boys wore it when they were right around two years of age. It is clearly too small for Full Speed but I power it on him anyway to make my point. I can tell by now, he likes me even less than he initially thought. I pick out some too-small Cars pants and the lovely ensemble is complete. He looks like a mini-angry old man. It’s unintentionally funny. In the moment however, it is completely humorless.
He is boiling. I can almost see the steam coming from his ears. He tries again switching gears and goes the sweet route, “Mommy, I LOVE YOU! I’m SORRY!” His tone is now laced with desperation.
“I understand that Full Speed, you might have thought of that when you were making bad choices about your behavior. I appreciate it, but you are still going to bed and you are wearing what you are wearing.”
It’s on now. “Mommy, I DO NOT LIKE YOU!” he screams.
At this point, Mad Dog comes up and asks “What is going on up here?” He is curious to see the source of Full Speed’s bipolar state of mind.
He looks at Full Speed in his mighty-tighty pjs, looks at me (I’m guessing my expression said it all) and says, “You want me to put him to bed?”
Good call because I was spittin’ mad and I didn’t want to set a bad example.