Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Picking up off the floor

Yup, he did it again. Puppy had asked to go across the street to keep the old man company while he worked on his truck. I get so tired of arguing with him that I allowed for a five minute visit and no longer. It seems that five minutes was just long enough for him to search his surroundings and find exactly what he was looking for...cigarettes. But these were not just any cigarettes, they were those metal ones that come in screw parts to make one, probably for persons either trying to quit or wanting to smoke indoors while avoiding the smoke, I don't know.

So he had them in his pockets for about one hour on Monday. He could no longer keep the secret to himself and came to tell me, "Mom, can I talk to you?" I always worry what surprise is going to follow this question. He's a bright kid and begins to explain that they are not real cigarettes and that the man gave them to him. And this smart child makes sure he keeps them hidden in his room while revealing this information to avoid me taking them from him. I convince him that I have no clue what he's talking about and would like to see them. He brings them to me and of course I give him a speech I've repeated so many times before. I clearly see he's not handing them over, they are now his prized possessions. Remember that he is observant and mimics everything, so ripping them out of his hand or screaming and shouting are not the way to go here. I coach him to give them up without success. So our evening routine continues and he is finally in bed.

Tuesday morning he rises with energy and has at least taken my advice not to take them to school. He knows that unwanted behavior will remove him from the classroom on Thursday while they have their Christmas party.  While having breakfast we discuss all the negatives about the cigarettes and by some miracle he decides to comply and he throws the cigarettes in the kitchen trashcan right before the bus arrives to take him to school. What a huge relief it was for me. The sweet smell of success is actually a dirty stinky one.

Knowing my son like I do; I waited for him to leave and went to retrieve them from the trashcan. Their smell is strong and I put them in a plastic zipper bag. I take them with me with the intentions of throwing them away, but not before I take a picture...just for you guys. :)

He had taken off the wrap of one so that it wouldn't look like a cigarette, he thinks things through sometimes.

Now to continue about how well I know my son. We come home last night and he's pacing around the kitchen. Instead of going upstairs to change, I suspect he's up to no good, and I begin washing dishes. Puppy starts to get anxious and even asks me why I'm not going upstairs. Since I'm not leaving he decides to be the most helpful child and asks if he can throw out the trash for me, and of course I let him. I gave him a few minutes and when he didn't return I went to find him emptying the contents on the driveway next to the outdoor trashcan. He's usually nervous when doing mischievous acts and is constantly looking around for someone to see who is watching him. After a minute Puppy saw me standing there. He started cussing like a sailor and told me to "get the f*** out of here" and some other pretty words. I assured him I wasn't going anywhere and was going to wait until he cleaned up all his mess. Puppy continued to empty and search the contents of the bag until it was empty. He was getting even more angrier and confused.  It was escalating and we were outdoors for the whole neighborhood to hear his screaming echos, just perfectly. I saw how determined he was to find them and was prepared to throw out all the contents of the large outdoor trashcan to find them. I told him he didn't find them because I had taken them out and threw them at a convenient store trashcan. I could see he was angry, but glad he didn't have to dig anymore. He gave me a few more selective words and we came inside to clean up. He cried and sought comfort and sympathy because his plan and his needs were not met. I hugged him and consoled him all the time asking him to jump in the shower and wash off all the germs from the trash. It only took about 30 minutes this time and he was showering. The entire evening went by with only a couple of soft hits to the walls with his head. Threats really, but no major tantrums, yea!

So what happened next? He switched his attention to his biceps. And again, after a lengthy talk about muscles he finally marched himself upstairs to bed. I was so tired after all the drama, that I actually slept like a baby.