One, two, three, four, five, I sent people out into this dreary, grey day. Oh the luxury of getting to stay home on mornings like this. By 8:15 it was just Jesse, Betsy, and me in my jammies, finishing our breakfast in the kitchen. Jesse snacked on a little bag of cookies like the ones the kids packed in their lunches. He kept setting two cookies aside and promising to save them for later, but next thing we knew, those two cookies would be eaten and he'd have to get two more from his bag.
As I did some morning Internet surfing, Jesse came and climbed up onto my lap. In no time, Betsy was at my knee wanting to claim her spot. So we hauled her up, Jesse on my lap, Betsy on his. Jesse faked sneezed for Betsy's entertainment, and she tried to follow suit. I wrapped my arms around my two youngest.
It was one of those magical moments of domestic perfection.
Then Jesse realized that he had accidentally eaten the Very Last Cookie.
His dismay escalated into yelling. And threats. My efforts to distract or appease him failed. "YOU HAVE TO GIVE ME ANOTHER COOKIE!" Within moments, I was dragging him kicking and screaming up the stairs. "You don't want to do this," I told him. "You and I love each other." Just then, he landed a karate kick--his form well-honed after all that superhero practice--on my stomach. Now Jesse is locked in his bedroom, occasionally shouting, "ANGRY!" down the furnace vents for my benefit.
It was just like this Huff Post article. The majestic Mount Everest vista out of view for the moment. Back to the one-foot-in-front-of-the-other slog.
(And no, Jesse's behavior is not morally or developmentally acceptable. Our boy is struggling mightily. His behavior in many ways getting worse not better. I'm still holding out hope that he's in one of those awkward phases that precedes a big leap in maturity. While brainstorming Plan B should that big leap not arrive.)