Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Sullen

My husband and I stayed up last night deconstructing the sullen phase our son has been in for the last couple months.  By getting to the root, we hope to make the switch in him.  Easier said than done.

Yesterday afternoon at pick up from school, he stormed off in (fake?) anger upon getting the news that we couldn't stay to play.  As his amazing teacher gave me a fifteen second summary of his day, he stood around a corner, arms crossed, glaring at me.  I got down on his level and made a stupid joke.  He wouldn't look at me but still smiled.

I can't remember what all we said, but it became clear that his grouchy behavior was a choice he was making.  I told him that he was being rude and that he needed to tell me one nice thing about me.  He threw his hands up in exasperation and said, "There's too many!"  I smiled and told him that was probably the nicest thing he could have said.  He smiled back.

We held hands and walked to the car.  He still complained about not staying to play.

This morning he crawled into bed with me and assumed the spoon-mode we have snuggled in since he was an infant.  We laid like this for twenty minutes.  I rested my cheek on the top of his head, and he started to ask what we could do together before school, just me and him since his sister is still sick.

He was torn between coloring his spiderman book together or going to his favorite little coffee shop near his school, the one where he used to get cans of San Pellogrino or Martinellis juice in the little bottles shaped like apples.  He finally made me decide, so of course I went for the shop option.  We sat together on a leather couch while he downed his hot chocolate.

He took off the lid and discovered leftover whipped cream with sprinkles in the bottom of his cup.  We'd had no idea it was there.  I asked if he wanted a spoon but he wanted to slurp it up through the straw.  As he took the last bit, he said, "Wow, mom, that was really nice of them wasn't it?"

He was so grown up to me then. 

1 comment:

  1. (smile) some times all it takes is an extra moment and some whipped cream. Good job, mama.

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