His and mine. I don’t know why I’m so impatient with Alex lately but he’s driving me absolutely crazy.
I hate six-year olds. I really really do.
Six year olds are old enough to realize what pisses them off but still too mentally disorganized to manage it properly.
No, that’s not it entirely.
He’s gone from being such an easy kind little soul to not being able to manage his frustration levels and reacting by crying loudly and acting out with me when things aren’t going his way. I can’t bear to be around him when he is playing a video game he can’t figure out.
Unfortunately, I must have the maturity level of six year old when I’m premenstrual because I’m not a whole lot better.
So last night, when he spoke to me rudely for about the billionth time, and I timed him out for failing to be the least bit respectful…well it suddenly dawned on me that he isn’t treating me any better than I’m treating him.
I apologized and he listened and he felt less sad about everything. And we agreed that we should treat each other the way people who love each should.
Which should be so much easier than it really is. It’s not fair.