Normally this is not a “mom blog,” but today…today we make an exception.
In the name of not being exploitative of my family, I will not name any names.
I will, however, say that a certain almost-nine-year-old fruit of my loins who lives in the house with my family is having some issues.
He can be a total dream. Sweet, loving, sensitive, and so, so smart. Sometimes he’s even funny.
One day last week he came into the kitchen to get an after-bedtime-putting-off-sleep drink of water, wearing nothing but his striped briefs. The ones he outgrew, oh, last year sometime.
“So, son, don’t you think you should put on some pajamas?”
“I’M WEARING UNDERWEAR.”
“Well, it’s more like the underwear is wearing you, but I meant really you should put on at least a shirt or something if you’re going to be dancing around the house.”
“I’M NOT DANCING, AND WHAT DOES THAT MEAN, MY UNDERWEAR IS WEARING ME?”
“Don’t worry about it. Good night.”
“WELL GOOD NIGHT, I GUESS.”
Things like this I love. His quirky personality and his absolute certainty in himself, it’s priceless and I treasure it.
What I don’t treasure are nights like Sunday night, when he floored the gas and went from quirky kid to scary ass monster child in about six seconds.
I don’t want to get into fine details, but basically what happened was:
Milk was left out. Neither kid claimed it.
Said milk was subsequently knocked over, and after further investigation, its ownership was determined to be of the almost-nine-year-old male variety. Not before he was completely content to let his always-guilty-acting sister get punished for it, though.
He was punished, and oh em gee.
Screams. Fury. Huffing and puffing and sent to take a shower.
In the shower, he was banging something – a fist, a shampoo bottle, his head, a dismantled chair leg – against the wall to demonstrate his anger.
The fact that he was angry isn’t what worries me. Every kid gets angry when they’re punished.
It was the INTENSITY. The sheer instant takeover. He was immediately, completely, inconsolably angry.
So I’m at a loss.
Do we beat him? Sell him? Medicate him?
Someone please tell me this is a passing phase.
I’m asking for a friend.
This is a recording.