My son is a rascal. A turkey. A monkey-face. A king-sized pest.
Okay, I'll just admit it. He's a BRAT.
I could go through the list of all the excuses, but I realize the bottom line is I just have let too much go. Again. I go through this cycle that most imperfect parents (who are honest) go through, pull my hair out and then pull my socks up - until the next go-around. The strive for consistency is turning my hair prematurely grey.
A couple of weeks ago, he was being particularly bad in church while I was trying to pray. He was determined to bug me the entire time. Normally when he's being that much of a pest, I take him downstairs into a private room for a particular mode of punishment. This time I decided that since it was attention he was so desperately seeking, I was going to give him no attention at all. This is supposed to work after all, right?
For 15 minutes he poked and tickled. And kissed my cheek. I ignored him. It would work with time, I was sure. He continued, finally ending his little game by climbing on my back and whispering a certain word in my ear over and over that's forbidden. I'll give you a clue what that word was. It begins and ends with the letter "p" and has two "o's" in between. It's a word I've forbidden because he only uses it as "trash" talk.
It's been over these last couple of weeks that things have escalated, period. In my exasperation, I asked him one day last week what in the world I was going to do with him. His reply?
"You're going to keep me and let me do whatever I want!"
Tonight in church he reached across Hannah to her book and, with a red crayon, made a straight line, as quick-as-you-please, on her page. He was quite amused with this as was demonstrated by his smug grin after the fact. He also poked, prodded and PUSHED my derriere. And pushed me over the edge because that is NEVER, NEVER, NEVER allowed to me or anyone.
It's not that none of this goes unpunished. It's just not as consistent as it should be. And truthfully, he seems to need so much physical attention that it seems that no amount of affection and attention given to him is enough. I get worn out and then fall into the trap of ignoring.
I blog these stories as memories to me and my kids when they're older. I blog these stories because sometimes writing them exorcises some frustration. I blog these stories because sometimes I hope that some kind soul will think to pray for me. I am the first to admit I'm not perfect and need to be more consistent, so I really don't need lectures. Just encouragement.
So, thanks everyone. For letting me blow off steam.