Tonight I am pouting. Why? Because!
I feel like stomping my feet, closing my eyes and yelling. I want to throw a good temper tantrum. But, alas, temper tantrums aren't really the thing for an adult to do - especially with the kids here in the room. So I'm doing the next best thing - blogging about it!
(This is where you put your arm around my shoulders and ask me what's wrong.)
Well, I'm glad you asked. Because I feel like talking about it. You see, the little boy, you know, the babysit-ee, is driving me crazy. He's three. That's probably enough to drive people crazy. But wait, there's more. I'm not going to use this as a chance to publicly bash a small child (only because he's not my own - my own children would be up for public bashing, of course,) so all I'm going to say is we have issues. Issues with patience... sharing... and violence. Yeah, you read that right, violence. Towards me, my children, and my walls.
Now, he hasn't destroyed anything (except a few random toys, but they were probably on their last legs anyway.) But he is, um, difficult. Especially difficult lately. And it's driving me bananas. It takes all my energy to deal with him, watch him, and generally interact with him. I am trying my darndest to be positive with him; to tell him how wonderful all the good things he does are; to give him praise when praise is due; to not beat him into the ground (emotionally, not physically!) And still, still, he is always in trouble.
I have taught preschool. I have been in classrooms full of three year olds, and I have never had to deal with all this. Never.
The boy can be such a lovely boy. He can be very good and very sweet. But when he's bad... well, you know. When he first started coming over to my house, he had the usual three year old issues. The little bits of mischief every small child has. That I can take. But now, well, now it is getting extreme.
I am hoping it gets better. Pray for us (or keep your fingers crossed, whatever it is you can do.)