Zero to Crazy

I welcomed Damien back into my home today. He made a brief (here’s hoping!) but
significant return into my life. I’ve
decided to blame his return on daylight savings time. My kids are waking up later than usual and have yet to adjust to
the new time schedule. Springing
ahead seems to be a significant adjustment for them. Thank goodness this week is spring break and, as such, I have
unplugged the alarm clock and assigned my son the task of waking up
Mommy.  This morning my son trotted up
the stairs at 8:55 and announced his presence with a, “Good morning
Mommy!” I roused myself out of sleep,
made a b-line for the shower and went through my usual morning routine. We came downstairs, got my daughter out of
her crib and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. As I was microwaving some mini-pancakes and
pouring the milk, my son yelled from the living room, “I’m going to eat my
breakfast in the living room Mommy.” I
reminded him of our rule that all meals were to be eaten in the kitchen. He asked again, “Please Mommy, can’t I just
eat my breakfast in the living room? I
promise I won’t make a mess.” Once
again, I told him that he could not. Then, as if my
words triggered a switch in his brain, my son’s behavior went from zero to crazy
in two seconds flat. He took his
beloved stuffed dog, threw it at me and said in his almost-forgotten demon
screech, “I AM EATING IN THE LIVING ROOM! IF YOU DON’T LET ME I’LL NEVER LISTEN TO YOU AGAIN!”

His rage and throwing the toy qualified him for an
immediate time-out. He fought me,
hitting and kicking while I carried him to the naughty mat. He refused to stay on the mat and was
therefore taken to his room. I locked
the door (this may sound harsh but when my son is raging it is the only way to
keep him confined). He raged and
room-wrecked and said incoherent things in his demon screech for the first two
minutes of his time-out. I heard many
objects hitting the door with a thump.

I made a decision, right then and there, that whatever toy
fallout was in his room from getting thrown against the door was going directly
into the trash. As I walked into his
room to release him from time-out, I said a little prayer that none of his good
toys would be on the floor. I got
lucky. There were two large toys that
had clearly been thrown against the door multiple times and both of them were
bought at yard sales. They still had
significant value for him but there was no sentiment or major cost involved so
it made the trip to the trashcan relatively painless for me. My son, on the other hand, had a conniption
fit when I dropped the truck and helicopter in the trashcan. I took him by the hand, led him to his door
and let him look at the damage he had done. The door looked like it had been attacked by a rabid tiger. It was covered in scratches and nicks. Thank goodness it is old and made of solid
wood. Otherwise it would have never
survived my son’s toy assault.

It is 5:00 now and both my kids are napping. We have all recovered from the
daylight-savings-time-induced hysteria episode. I’ll have to remember this next time we have to adjust our clocks
in the fall. I’ll do a little exorcism
the day after we “fall behind.”