We've reached a new milestone in Benjamin's young life: the moment of self-exile. He's had a tough week: the physical therapist, after observing him at preschool, tattled he doesn't help with clean-up; he cried he didn't want to stay at school because he wanted to have coffee with me and my girlfriends, and then, later, while standing at the urinal with the other boys, he peed on his shirt; he's begun demanding Madeline's baby finger food ("puffs") over his own snacks; he "helped" me make stir fry for supper, because "I loooove stir fry, Mommy," but then would not eat it, and seemed astonished when I refused him dessert; he knows how to wipe his own nose, but has instead taken to coming up to me and yelling, "Boogers!"
This morning, he wanted to play a game on the Sesame Street website. I let him, for a while, and then said it was time to stop, get dressed, and have a snack-- it's 10:30, for Pete's sake. He went into full-on meltdown, ending with, "(foot stomp) If you don't let me play my game (foot stomp,) then, I'm going to my room! (arms cross, foot stomp, harumph) "Good," I said. "Go." And off he went, wailing down the hall. It was like a fire engine siren, fading off into the distance, but soon returning at full force. "I'm back!" Ben screamed. "I'm better now! I calmed down! I WANT TO PLAY MY COMPUTER GAME!"
I couldn't help it. I laughed. I stifled it, but I think he could still tell. Ben slunk off, more quietly this time. I could hear him muttering in the next room. I peeked to find him sitting on the floor with a screwdriver, disassembling all the toys he could find that require batteries. Guess he's powering up for the next round.