Okay...alright. I can do this.
He didn't go to bed until 10 last night. He's been doing this the last few days.
What he has also been doing the past few days is getting up at 3 am to play. He keeps coming into our room and bouncing on me. I put him back to bed. He comes back. Rinse, repeat. I told him flat out that if he must be up then he is to play in his room.
He followed this order but he has been playing in the loudest most obnoxious ways he can find. Banging drums, slamming his door, kicking the walls. Laughing loudly and clearly.
Last night was the worst. He got up at 3:30, did his normal jump and chat. I decided to lay down with ihm in his bed but this only spurred im into a fervor of excitement. He stayed up until 5 am.
I went back to my bed...and he got up again a 6:30. I had a full blown migraine by that ime so I just go out, give him some toast and sit on the couch, hating the world. My husband and I hardly exchanged words we were both so frazzled.
I decide desperate time call for desperate measures. I turned on Star Wars, waited until he was fully engrossed...then I took the door knob of my bed room door and switched it with his.
Mine has a lock. I know that sounds horrible but I just really want him to stay in his room. Perhaps after a few nights of that he'll get the hint. I saw it recommended on a parenting bard and other mothers say it works so...why not?! He'll either calm down or become a master lock smith.
So, I do this...but then I realize its quiet. Too quiet. I realize that I had become so involved in getting these door knobs switched that I haven't checked on Jet in 10 minutes. This may not seem like a long time to some...but in parenting time that might as well be a day.
I go into the living room...and find that Steve had left the maple syrup on the table after he had his eggos today. The bottle, only bought this past grocery day, is empty.
My dining tablecloth is doused in it...the floors covered..the walls...my bookcase...the cats tail...the pan of his dumb truck and him. A sticky cluster fuck.
I screamed in horror...his reaction was to run to his bed room...spreading syrup chaos behind him. I don't catch him before he jumps on his bed, smother his sheets in syrup. I pick him up, covering me in syrup, and place him in the bath tub.
I scrub him clean and leave him in the tub. I gather his sheet and my table cloth. I begin to mop the floor, polish my table, soap the walls...then I hear him laughing.
I go to check on him again...he's after taking the mop bucket I had recently used and emtied, putting it in the tub with him..then dumping water on the floor.
He has now locked in his room...but he appears to have fallen asleep.
I am left a broken woman.
