Spitting on Destiny
An evil spirit that has come to reside in my five-year old son has disrupted life in my household over the last two weeks.
This makes me sad on many levels. This is my baby, the last child I will ever bear; the period on the end of my motherhood sentence. (I know, a bit dramatic, but hey, it’s my blog.) My last-born is my outgoing child; friends with everyone, mostly happy, affectionate, loves telling jokes, even the horrible ones he makes up (What do you get when you cross a hippo and a fish? A: A hiccup. How do you get a skunk to pee on your house? A: With a firequacky.)*
Because of this, it is especially hard to witness the possession I hold accountable for his behavior of late. Just this week, during assembly at daycare this cherubic, sweet little boy turned to the little girl sitting beside him and said: You know, both you and your brother are ugly. While shopping for his Dad’s birthday present this unselfish, charming lad sat down in the middle of the aisle and pouted because I would not by him a Batman toy. (Note: same boy has more Batman figures than I can count on one hand.)
That brings me to today. This morning we had his kindergarten orientation. We dropped my incredibly-well-behaved-beautiful-smart-sassy-third grader off at her classroom, she was excited and happy to be back in school; she even made up a little song and dance last night about going back to school, which she sang while twirling around in the sprinkler after dinner. (She does have her moments, but thank God she’s counter-balancing the evilness by being close to perfect lately.) After dropping the angel off in her classroom, the devil and I had to take care of some bus routing issues in the office. I finished and we had an hour to kill before we had to be back for his orientation. The devil threw a tantrum IN THE PRINCIPAL’S office the day before his first day of kindergarten! I quickly ushered him out, took him home and punished him. At that point I discovered he’d gone commando, yet again. Devil, go put on some underwear.
Alas, the day didn’t end there. After orientation, where he seemed oh so excited and glad to meet his teachers and interested in what they’d be doing I took him to daycare. His father got a call around noon. My dear, thoughtful son spit in Destiny’s face (she’s the little girl he said was ugly earlier this week I’m sure). Not just a raspberry, but a full blown loogie. Dad made a visit to the daycare; we’ll be talking sentencing, I mean punishment, this evening.
*These were two jokes he told all the time when he was about 3 years old. He made them up. I have no idea why one would want a skunk to pee on your house, but you have to give him points for creativity.