FYI... never EVER insinuate that your son was "NOT a very good boy" less than two weeks before Christmas, no matter what he did to deserve being labeled thus. Here's what happened:
It's 7:00 PM. Mark and I are watching TV in the family room. Kids are playing quietly (first indication that something was amiss) in the den. Mark goes in to check on them at one point and reports back to me that they're playing Candy Land. Aww! They're playing so nicely with each other! Mark and I continue watching TV and playing around on the 'net.
7:30 rolls around and it's time to put the kids to bed. I call out, "Okay kiddos! Time to clean up! Bed time!" Matt goes bolting, head down, tail between his legs, into the bathroom. Hmm... That's suspicious, I think to myself. I follow him into the bathroom and there's one of my hand towels (my nice, WHITE hand towels) in the sink, soaking wet, covered in florescent pink finger paint. As you can imagine, at this time all hell proceeds to break loose. Suffice it to say that there was pink and green paint finger painted on Mark's desk. Yeah. Luckily, I'm pretty sure we caught him before any serious damage could be done, but only daylight tomorrow will tell, since there's only one standing lamp in that room. I hope to God that I got it all.
Matt got sent straight to bed without a story, sobbing. Mark went in and gave him a stern lecture, and then I went in and gave him my own talking to. I ended the talk by saying, "You were NOT a very good boy tonight." Matt looked up at me, his big brown eyes brimming with tears and his lip quivering and then wailed, "Santa's not going to bring me any presents!!!" I swear to you that my heart broke into a million pieces at that pathetic little statement. I tried to stay strong, I really did. I replied, "Well, maybe if you are a good boy from now until Christmas..." But I couldn't finish. Matt said, "I will be a good boy!!" I just scooped him up in my arms, started crying, and told him repeatedly that of course Santa would bring him presents and that he IS a really good boy. He promised me that he would never do that again, asked me to help him stop crying by giving him a snuggle and then asked if he could use the finger paints, at the table on paper tomorrow.
My heart is still breaking thinking about the look on his face, peeking up from under his blankets.
2 comments:
I have been feeling that way a lot lately! We have been doing some "tough love" of our own with Payton. It is SO hard to do!
Ooooohhh, the poor little guy. My eyes are brimming with tears too as I type! LOL
But I've been there/done that where ya just go into Ninja B*tch crazy mode because of something they've done and at the time you could spit nails! But in looking back when I read their childhood journals (back in MY day, we had to write all this stuff down in long hand...we didn't HAVE computers and blogs back then), but you'll read about it and laugh. I'll be something to toss at him when his OWN kids act up some day! "Remember when YOU fingerpainted my house....??" ;oP
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