Like nails on a chalkboard. That’s the only way I can describe T.Puzzle’s onslaught of questions concerning his assorted punishments. I picked him up from school and when it was time to go, he decided that he wasn’t in the mood. He dragged his sorry self down the hallway and folded into a heap of sorrow about half-way down. I informed him that he would lose his crocs for tomorrow and would be sent to his room when we returned home. He screamed at top volume all the way home. This only lengthened the amount of time he would be spending in his room, expedited his bedtime hour and contributed to a loss of his other privileges.
After I managed to get Full Speed off to tae kwon do with Mad Dog, I allowed a seemingly defeated T.Puzzle to come to the table for dinner.
“Why can’t I have my Thomas (the Train) color book?”
“Why can’t I have my animals?”
“Why can’t I have my crocs?”
“Why can’t I have a treat?”
“Why can’t I watch TV?”
“Why can’t I stay up late?”
“Why? Why? Why?”
I tried to ignore him, but my ears couldn’t take it. Not after all the high-volume screaming they had already endured. I tried to tell him to be quiet. I tried to calmly explain the reasons for the loss of his privileges.
Nothing worked except putting him to bed.
Early.
Very early.
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Sorry that this was a tough day. I think it was good that you stuck with your rules though.