Friday, January 27, 2012
Living with the Dragon.
"No! I've only got one pinky toe." That's what the boy told me this morning. I was a little taken aback by the amount of rage he had scrunched into his little face...like Mick Jagger imitating Henry Rollins.*
I've mentioned before that he has an argumentative streak...and he can be a little lippy. He's stubborn like his Momma and a bit of a handle.
His behaviour is not unreasonable though. He minds...especially others. He's just a rambunctious youngin' and as long as we can hammer manners and a sense of respect for others into him...that'll serve him well later on, I think.
Lately though..he's been on the roids.
That ear infection came with an atrocious cough. They put him on steer-roids and a breathing treatment...for about an hour after he takes off the Dragon styled breathing cup (please don't point out that it obviously...OBVIOUSLY looks like a chicken...just let it go) his personality is wired for sound...set on 11.
"NO! I don't want to CHILL OUT!"
There've even been some tantrums...which neither me or his Momma have any patience for. I'd much rather deal with his sass than whining. Last night he burst into tears of anger because he wanted to sit in the seat where I had sat down to eat. I'd been there for 10 minutes and had even chatted with him while he played on the floor. Then the switch went on and he flew into a rage because he had been sitting there 15 minutes earlier.
There was no inbetween...no asking..no nothin...one second he's playing with his garbage trucks and the next he's comin' at me like he wants my wallet. Roid rage or not there's a zero tolerance policy on tantrums in the house...if I'm not allowed to have one, and it has been explained to me that I am not, nobody is.
That's part of the story...the rest has been mostly hilarious.
He comes off the stuff like it's Red Bull and Bourbon...he's fidgety, even for a three year old, and aggressive beyond what his coordination will allow. He come back to the bedroom last night to tell me we were gonna play football in the livin' room...he fell three times in the hallway headin' back that way.
Then there are the tirades...he went on a long, mostly indecipherable, rant about sandals the other night...best we could tell it centered around how much he hates it when his friend W. wears sandals. Good boy...flippin hippies.
The cops have come in for it too. I don't know where he got the idea that all cops do is ride around looking to ruin somebody's day :cough: but, it has set in. Earlier this week, we were all in the car when he spotted some blue lights...a harangue followed. We were able to pick out the word "ticket" and the now familiar, "they just ruin somebody's day" and the final summation..."all they do is CLLUH-OOOOWN!"
HAHAHHAAHHA
He took his last bump this morning. I reckon he'll be back to normal soon...which is enough of a handful as it is.
*This post owes a certain amount of debt to a post on Ishouldbeworking (a blog that you should all know and love by now) for the shape it took.
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He's 3, enough said EF! That sounds about par for the course in my experience of children and grandchildren. You'll survive, though you may doubt it at times.....
ReplyDeleteOh yeah...he's a good little fella for the most part. Even during this period he's been mostly funny...it's like there's been a slight decrease in what little inhibition he's developed to this point.
ReplyDeleteDon't get me wrong...he's always a handful but, like you said he's three.
One day, when he's all grown up, you wont half miss all this.
ReplyDeleteHonestly!
SP
We actually had a discussion about this the other night...though specifically about missing his rood rage.
ReplyDeleteI wish had his rant about the cops on tape.
Ahh the joys of a three year old. I miss those days, they are all or nothing but only with the parents. For everyone else they were born without a bad bone in the body. My parents loved when little Zoe was around, but for us she was a complete handful at times. I would give my right arm to have those days again, sadly I cant. But you made me smile mate
ReplyDeleteIf only you could see what he's just done.
ReplyDeleteHis obsession with trash pick up and disposal has been given the ultimate expression....he has piled everything he owns (toys, buckets, rugs, etc.) into a humongous mound in the living room.
He now has his own county dump.
That has to go into his 21st birthday wall. :) Parnets have to have some fun.
ReplyDeleteThat's gonna be a big wall Horse.
ReplyDeleteAt last, I have a working internet connection again, though, at present time, it's operating slower than a relapsed quality testing mule at a ketamine factory; two flimsy dixie cups tethered together with fishing wire would be more effective. In the interim, a belated New Year to t'yall. Lot of catching up to do. The psychologists say moving home, which I just have, is up there – stress wise – with the death of a close relative, spouse or friend. I say: psychologists need some perspective, other than that which is supplied by statistics garnered from tenuously constructed question and answer papers. Speaking of psychologists, in the unpacking, I unearthed a picture of my psychology teacher in an old college magazine; she was beautiful – an exception, in the memory roll call of past teachers who, by-and-large, affect my memory as mildew would the autobiographical pages of a life literally made of low-grade paper. That psychology class was, except for the instance of me, entirely female; two members of which went on to be: one, a successful TV actress in a popular prime-time soap (and other dramas); the other a model. Both sat next to me, either side … ah, yes, I got distracted there … my point was … I forget. Any hows, glad to be back on the WWW.
ReplyDeleteAs for the Year of the Dragon - welcome, there's a lot to be scaled; just so long as it doesn't drag-on.
I love the Meat Puppets for about three albums.
ReplyDeleteThere's a sight for sore eyes...sore brains.
ReplyDeleteAt least the Meat Puppets never became THE Meat Puppets...the way The Flaming Lips became THE Flaming Lips.
ReplyDeleteI was digging around I-Tunes the other day and was reminded just how good...how crushingly good...the Flaming Lips were before they became anime comic book Bubble Machine v. The Atari 2600 heros.
Haha yip, the asthma roid rage the tricky one developed was a revelation in "just little Mum could take before she went off it"!
ReplyDeleteHe seems to be back to normal now...which is to say he's back to being a barely manageable challenge to our patience and intellect.
ReplyDeleteI think his ability to reason is somewhat advanced for his age...but, it's still bent through a three year old's mind. Trying to argue, or reason with him when the situation calls for it...can be utterly baffling and, usually at the worst possible times, impossible not to break down in tears of laughter over.
He's popped off with "ohhhh God" a couple of times lately. After a few attempts to explain why we don't want him doing this...attempts that have ended with one of us in another room shaking with silent laughter...we have reverted to the indispensable "because we say so."
I'd love to be three years old again for half an hour. Just to have some sense of what on earth it must be like to barely be able to contain (or sometimes, not contain at ALL) whatever is running through your little head and body. I've lost touch with how INTENSE (a good Rollins word!) it must all feel, and how literally, physically unbearable when it doesn't go your way.
ReplyDeleteJust half an hour would be plenty, mind you. Any more than that and I might burst.
That's a good point about the time limit.
ReplyDeleteI've had this conversation with people a few times...
"boy's birthday or whatever was this weekend."
"what'd he get."
"a tricycle."
"oh man wouldn't be nice if all you needed to make the world right was a tricycle."
What they seem to forget is how easy it is to have your world CRUSHED at that age.
Let em move Yo Gaba Gaba to a time slot beyond a three year olds bedtime and see what an idyllic time it is.
:)
I am still a large part threee year old, I find it very easy to get massively excited over shit, and utterly crushed over some pointless shit... I would say you'd be surprised, but you probably wouldn't. We tend to call such people bi-polar when they get older... 'three-yearold-itis' would be better.
ReplyDeleteI guess as long as nobody else has to while your bottom for you...you can get away with it.
ReplyDeleteEmma pointed out to me as i was tellin her about this that not 10 minuites before, I had come in and asked whats for tea, and she had said Curry and Mango Lassi, to which I had jumped in the air, yelled woo hoo, and run upstairs singing at the top of my lungs. I'm pretty sure that nails it, but as yet its all my own work in the ass wiping department.
ReplyDeleteWhen is Mrs.Emma gonna come see us...so, we can get the real skinny?
DeleteThe boy actually got some real good news this week...he is no longer allergic to things made with eggs. In a few weeks will find out if he can eat eggs straight.
ReplyDeleteSome of his better bitter diatribes have been against things that "hat eckkks." When his buddies would have a birthday party at his little school...they'd get cupcakes while he ate oreos.
Some of his Momma's better diatribes have involved him accidentally being feed things with eggs in them at school...Facebook picture pops up of The Boy's face covered in icing or whatever. Them ladies got to see a side of Martha that only I knew existed.