Just when I think I can breathe a sigh of relief, the boat gets rocked, and hard. So here I am writing, bitching, sharing, healing.
We are at some friend's house for dinner last night. It's warm enough for the kids to eat outside which means a relatively quiet meal for the adults. Dessert is birthday cake. You know the stays moist for 2 weeks, deliciously over processed sheet cake from Safeway, with it's frosting so sugary it coats your teeth. Mmmm. Charlie naturally devours his piece as do I.
After, the boys decide they need to whip up round 2 of dessert in the play kitchen. They begin to set up their ice cream cone stand. Charlie is doing a lot of mixing and freezing. Gregory is making a mockery of Charlie's prep work by stealing the ice cream and serving it to me on fancy little dessert plates. Charlie is pissed and screams, "It's NOT READY YET!'
Gregory simply ignores him and proceeds to ask me what other flavors I want.
Charlie yells, "Gregory, you stupid, I'm not done getting it ready."
Gregory continues on, "You want banilla or chocrate, Mommy?"
Charlie walks up to him with the plastic ice cream scoop, pokes him in the eye then kicks him in the shin. "That's what you get." Of course Gregory is hysterically crying.
Outside onto the porch we go to 'cool off', where Charlie proceeds to tell me why the violence against his brother is justified. "Mommy, Gregory is bad. He's not listening to me and how I want my ice cream store run so I hit him."
Okay, Charlie. I understand you are frustrated with him. But why don't you let him serve some ice cream early or come up with a way he can play, too.
"I hate him, he's stupid and I'm going to do this my way or else he can't play."
Bud, I think you and I need to stay out here for a minute. You are tired and maybe you need to take a break from playing with your brother.
"No, I was in the kitchen first. I get to play there. He's stupid."
Okay, enough with the stupid. Do you think you can play nicely with your brother?
Grumble, grumble, "Yes, but he's still stupid."
We return to the house. Charlie goes back to his work at the freezer while I sit down. Sure enough, Gregory tries to take my ice cream order again. "Mommy, you rike da chocrate?" Charlie goes ballistic. This time he has the sink from the kitchen set and smashes it into the back of his brother's head, screaming the entire time, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO." Back out to the patio we go.
Sit here! You do not hurt your brother. Stay here for 5 minutes and I'll come get you once you've calmed down.
I shut the sliding door and Charlie immediately gets up, sobbing. He presses his face against the glass, screaming, "Let me in. Let me in. LET ME IN, MOMMMMYYYY!"
I cannot believe my kid is this upset over plastic ice cream. The whole thing is ridiculous so I just start laughing. Probably not the smartest choice. Charlie is now kicking the glass and punching it. Screaming that he hates me at the top of his lungs.
And it's time to go.
We start to head out, say our hurried goodbyes. Charlie is still crying, except now that he doesn't want to leave. We are literally walking out the door and the kid hauls off and punches me, tells me he's not going. Oh beautiful boy, why must you go and hurt your mama like that? Now I gotta yell at you in front of our friends, give them a glimpse of the belly of the beast.
Charlie, go to the car NOW!
"No!"
GO. TO. THE. CAR. NOW!!!!!
"You're stupid", and he runs to the car
As he gets in, I tell him to climb up and buckle himself in or else I will drive down the street and leave him on the corner.
Our friends inner horrification is seeping out through their smiles as they wave goodbye, relieved my kid is not their kid. Or maybe they're just happy to see us go. We head home, it's a quiet car ride. At home, Charlie passes out in about 2 seconds and I am reminded of a valuable lesson - highly refined, white sugar is a weapon of evil when consumed by an overtired child and his mama. Damn you, Birthday Cake, damn you.
