That’s when the day started for Simeon. That’s about the time he decided to run the day. He disobeyed the first, simple instruction. One that he actually loves to do and often does on his own.
Then he sat in the corner and pouted for an hour. Occasionally he’d scream. Or yell at me to shut up. Even when I wasn’t talking.
Then he took all of his dirty clothes and dumped them in the hallway.
Then he piled up all of his clean underwear and pajamas and mixed them in the dirty clothes.
He hummed a merry tune. Seriously.
An hour and a half later, he’s done. Just done. Happy and ready to take on the day as though the past hour and a half did not exist for him.
And other than cleaning his room, which he will happily do, he receives no consequence for disrespect, for making a mess, for spending the morning screaming and angry.
Because I can’t spank him. Not that I would. I don’t think he would care. I can’t take things away. He doesn’t have much and a toy or privilege lost quickly becomes of no value to him. I can’t isolate him any more. He just spent the past hour and a half alone by choice. So… what do I do? Tell me oh wise and savvy moms, what do I do??? Do I do anything??? Do I pretend it doesn’t matter??? Do I even acknowledge that he was hateful and disrespectful, when I suspect he knows? I suspect that was the whole point.
I suppose I accept him because he is who he is. And I love him. In spite of all the angry. And the dirty laundry. Kind of like how I’ve been loved. Consistently and graciously even when I don’t deserve it.