Sunday, May 17, 2009

Holey Moley!

Last week was a bit intense in our household.

Zayd, our 8-year-old, came to our bedroom to ask whether he could watch the latest King Kong movie. We decided it was a bit too violent for our over-imaginative son who each night before bed needs to ask us, "What should I think about tonight" in order to avoid nightmares. By the way, after 4 years of this, it becomes increasingly difficult to come up with new material. Lately my response has deteriorated to topics like orange juice and grass.

Zayd is also quite the passionate child - I think today's psychological term would be "strong-willed child."

So, when I said: No, that movie is not appropriate for you. It's very scary." I knew what I was getting myself into - I just didn't know EXACTLY what I was getting myself into.

The pleading began, and with each "no" came a elevated response. So much so that a full-blown tantrum had begun. I then informed my son calmly but firmly that if he would not stop, he would lose a day of television. That sent him to a new level.

Me: No television.

He went ballistic.

Me: You are going to lose two days of television if you don't stop.

Is there word for a level beyond ballistic?

The meltdown in now into its 20th minute.

Me: No television for a week.

All hell broke loose and I took him by his arm and with great determination (and strength) walked him into his room and said, "You will sit here until you calm down. I am not interested in listening to you right now."

I walked back to my bedroom and laid on the bed with my husband. Both of us on our backs, staring at the ceiling and probably thinking the same thing: What the hell did we do to create this child? Well, I mean, we know what we did... but I mean after that... what did we do?

A few minutes later - along with the screaming, we hear a loud bang, followed by another loud bang, followed by another loud bang.

Then we hear a very, very, loud bang. Then silence.

Still staring at the ceiling, I say: Huh. That doesn't sound good.

Paul goes to check things out.

Paul: He punched a hole in the wall.


The commotion brings the other boys into our room. They are used to these meltdowns and normally find other things to do, far away from the noise. But even they knew something new had happened.

First, the 5-year-old, who shares a room with his brother and is not afraid at all of his meltdowns. We hear him run directly up the stairs in into their bedroom.

Loud scream from Zayd.

Then Ethan comes marching into our bedroom with his eyes the size of half-dollars.

Ethan: Mom. Zayd just pumpched a big hoe in de waww. Is a weewy weewy big hoe.

Then the other two run in. What was that!

Ethan: Zayd pumpched a weewy big hoe in de waww. He was quite proud that he was the first brother on the scene.

The other boys run into Zayd's room. More screaming - from Zayd. They run back.

Evan: Oh my God mom! I can't believe he did that! What are you going to do?

Me: I'm not sure what your dad and I are going to do.

Leave it to Zach to sum it all up.

Zach: You know, you gotta admit - that's pretty impressive. He didn't even break his knuckles. I mean, come on, that's amazing.


Zach: Huh..I wonder what he'll do next time?

1 comment:

  1. Well... It *is* kind of cool that he didn't break his knuckles... And now you all get to learn how to patch drywall. Life skills 101. :-/