A few weeks ago, I was going to post about Boy Terror announcing, as we walked into the swimming pool complex "I wear a bathing suit to cover my PENIS. Right? 'Cause nobody gets to see my PENIS. Right, Mummy? 'Cause PENIS'S are PRIVATE. Right, Mummy?"
Then over the weekend, I had a post in mind about his delightful discovery (in a restaurant, of course) that pee and apple juice are the same colour. Of course, we don't drink pee. Hee hee hee. You get the jist of that day.
This morning, while I was flaked out on the couch trying to sleep through Barney, I wrote a post in my head regarding the screaming that was happening. See, I offered to hold Boy Terror's hand coming down the stairs this morning. Not because he needs it, but because after a long night, I miss him (all together now, awwhhhh). He declined. I said okay. I continued down the stairs alone. Big mistake. He stood at the top of the stairs, screaming. For fifteen minutes. Then, he came downstairs, peeked around to see if I was paying attention, and screamed some more. At this point, if you are childless, you are thinking "Why didn't she go get him?! Why not just go hold that precious boy's hand?" If you are already a parent, you KNOW why. Eventually, Girl Terror gave into the screaming, and went to the bottom of the stairs to console him. She offered her hand for holding. She spoke to him like you would a wounded baby deer. His response was to shriek at her "I DON'T WANT YOU TO LOOK AT ME RIGHT NOW!!!" She came back to the couch.
After some time (Barney had ended, so I'm guessing more than half an hour), he gave up. He came over, kissed me, said sorry, and sat down with a sigh.
I'd like to add, he rarely, and I mean rarely has temper tantrums. He's been moody lately with the end of summer approaching, and the changes in routine on the horizon. But temper tantrums? Never really his thing. And it's been a long, long time since he gave in to the Dark Side. Today he let it alllllllllll out.
I had lots of posts in my head. All of them were about the joys of living with a 4 year old boy. But you know what? I'm thinking this is just one of those things you have to live through yourself. I cannot possibly explain to you why anyone needs a small boy in their lives.