Someone please tell me, because I honestly think I have found my first grey hair.
It is Little T’s 5th birthday on Wednesday and we had his party to celebrate on Saturday. I kid you not, I have never, ever known my child to be as naughty as he has been over the past few days. Simple tasks have turned into torturous showdowns, the smallest request has been met with strops that would put even the most contentious teenager to shame. And in spite of this, I still had to give him a nice, happy birthday party and I am still yet to give him a nice, happy birthday.
I don’t want to! As awful as it sounds, I really don’t want to shower gifts and affection on a person who this morning told me to “Make my breakfast NOW!” and followed up my request to ask nicely with “Do it now, or I’ll kick your butt”
WTF? Did I just hear right? You, still not yet five years old, are telling me – Your Mother – that you’re going to kick my butt? Clearly, there’s a thing or two they’re not teaching you in school, so let me educate you my precious:
· The laws of physics will not physically allow you to kick my butt. You are less than 3 foot tall, as opposed to my mighty 5 feet and 4 inches. You cannot physically kick your feet high enough to kick my butt.
· If you can defy the laws of physics in a similar way that you defy me, and you do indeed manage to “kick my butt” remember that Mummy has the receipts for all of your birthday presents – good boys get nice things, naughty ones get nothing.
· If I discover the source of the phrase ”Kick your butt” you will not be able to a) play with them anymore, or b) watch it anymore.
This example of rude behaviour doesn’t even touch the surface. I won’t even go into some of the other horrific traits he’s been displaying for fear of somebody saying “I blame the parents.” For approximately the last four days, he has displayed the most obnoxious, disobedient and hair-raising behaviour I have witnessed in him. I even spoke to my mother about it, which is something I rarely do as I’m not the sort to admit that I’m lacking in parental ability. But on this occasion, I’m afraid to say I feel like I have slightly lost control.
Trying to reason why my son has turned from a loving, affectionate and relatively well-mannered child into the spawn of Satan, I can only conclude that he doesn’t yet have the ability to channel his birthday excitement positively. I really can’t admit that overnight he has undergone a behaviour transplant that means he will continue to act this way until he is about twenty-five. I can’t believe that, I just can’t. That scares me. More than spiders do. My only saving grace is that if I’m right, and this lapse in acceptable behaviour is down to his impending day of celebration, then by Thursday I should have my happy child back, and not be left with one whose head can turn 360 degrees. Until then, I think I can only ride the storm and intermittently check for numbers that may appear on the back of his neck.
Is that a 6 I see?...