- I threatened to throw my son’s scooter in a garbage can on the street
- …and then I did it.
But let’s go back a couple of hours. I spent my morning sitting at a playground with my friend. We sat in the shade and caught up. Upon arrival, my firstborn was immediately displeased because the right ride on car with the proper stirring wheel was not available. Unfortunately the playground only had approximately 45 other toys, including several other, very similar ride on cars. But none would do. It had to be the one.
Finally, once Julian’s persistent asking of “May I please have a turn?” worked, he seemed slightly more at ease. But then, for no apparent reason, he became depressed and had to be taken home immediately. Except of course that wasn’t an option.
So my son had to suck up the fact that I brought him to a playground for the sole purpose of giving him enjoyment and fun while being surrounded by children his own age.
Food helped. (Aforementioned car pictured in the background in picture below. With not Julian sitting in it.)
However, on the way home things deteriorated quickly. We were at a playground about half a mile away from home. Which for children who are tired, sweaty and not into scooter riding anymore, is the equivalent of 137 miles.
Arthur broke down first. So I put him in the Ergo. At this point I was carrying my 35+ child, a backpack, a helmet, a water bottle, 2 lunch boxes, and a scooter. A block later Julian broke down. Which was tough luck for all involved because I had no more free hands to carry a scooter or anything else.
I told Julian, “Sorry, kid, suck it up.” Except nicer and more compassionate. I was nice, at first, I promise. But Julian opted to scream and scream and scream. For a few blocks. I remained composed. I told him to calm down, I know he’s tired, but I also know he is such a big kid, and we are almost home, and he can do it. Hang in there, kid, please. Bla bla bla.
But he couldn’t.
So two blocks later I threatened to throw his scooter in the garbage if he didn’t stop screaming. He didn’t stop. And so I dumped the scooter in a trash can. Not forever, of course, because that thing cost moneys, and I didn’t want to scar my kid for life. Just long enough to prove a point that I’m not sure I proved.
Anyway. To make a long story short, I returned home sweaty and defeated. But then the boys both took a long nap, I did as well, and we woke up to spend a lovely, calm, happy afternoon together. We colored and read books on piles of pillows; we played with sticker books and the boys played peacefully while I prepared dinner.
Oh, also this hot shot got a haircut and can thus finally see again.
All is good in the world, for tonight. It is genuine magic how a crappy, terrible day has the potential to turn itself around. Just like that.