Lightbulb Moments
You know how when something comes to you and that imaginary lightbulb appears over your head and you say "a-ha!" and suddenly one of life's great mysteries reveals itself?
I had one of those yesterday.
I picked Bob up from school yesterday at his usual 5:05pm. One of the parents was there, having helped out today because the school is under siege by some stomach virus that's wiped out half the class and most of the teachers. She told me Bob had been very good and very sweet all day. First thought--oh, shit, he's only good when he's sick. And she did mention he'd felt warm and the thermometer concurred he had a 99.8 degree fever. And the night before he'd told me one of his ears hurt.
Dammit.
When we got home, he layed in the recliner and watched cartoons until dinner. Before we ate, one of the other moms from his class--who has been helping out at the school part-time for the last month or so--called to rsvp for the party. And she shed some light on some other things.
She told me she gets the sense that Bob is an "emotional barometer"--which I've always known he was--and that when he senses stress or tension, even if it's not directed at him, he acts out. And she said there's been quite a lot of stress and tension at the school for the last month--among the adults. Apparently when she started helping out, one of the "regular" teachers began to think her job was in jeopardy, so apparently there've been a lot of sour grapes. Typical girl stuff. But it didn't get by Bob, obviously.
I've known for a long time that Bob has this tendency. I saw it for the first time when he wasn't even 2 years old, and the 3 of us (db, me and Bob) were sitting at the dinner table, eating. Db started ragging on me for one thing or another, and the conversation got a little heated--even though our voices weren't raised, it was obvious we were fighting. And out of nowhere, little Bob picks up a chicken nugget from his plate and hurls it at the wall.
Look at me, look at me! Stop fighting and look at me!
I felt sick when I realized what had just happened, and that was the beginning of the end, so to speak. After that, I started planning my escape.
So the great mystery of Bob's outbursts over the last few weeks becomes a little more clear to me. If the adults in his life aren't happy, he ain't happy. It makes sense to me now. The problem is, I'm not really able to communicate this to the school without making it front-page news that the mommies are talking behind each others' backs.
So...I'm planning a birthday party with a forecast for rain and cold, an outbreak of disease, and depending on the outcome of today's court appearance, a guest of honor that may or may not even be present. Cross your fingers for me. I'll be on the witness stand sometime between 1:30 and 4:30. Central Shitstorm Time.
I had one of those yesterday.
I picked Bob up from school yesterday at his usual 5:05pm. One of the parents was there, having helped out today because the school is under siege by some stomach virus that's wiped out half the class and most of the teachers. She told me Bob had been very good and very sweet all day. First thought--oh, shit, he's only good when he's sick. And she did mention he'd felt warm and the thermometer concurred he had a 99.8 degree fever. And the night before he'd told me one of his ears hurt.
Dammit.
When we got home, he layed in the recliner and watched cartoons until dinner. Before we ate, one of the other moms from his class--who has been helping out at the school part-time for the last month or so--called to rsvp for the party. And she shed some light on some other things.
She told me she gets the sense that Bob is an "emotional barometer"--which I've always known he was--and that when he senses stress or tension, even if it's not directed at him, he acts out. And she said there's been quite a lot of stress and tension at the school for the last month--among the adults. Apparently when she started helping out, one of the "regular" teachers began to think her job was in jeopardy, so apparently there've been a lot of sour grapes. Typical girl stuff. But it didn't get by Bob, obviously.
I've known for a long time that Bob has this tendency. I saw it for the first time when he wasn't even 2 years old, and the 3 of us (db, me and Bob) were sitting at the dinner table, eating. Db started ragging on me for one thing or another, and the conversation got a little heated--even though our voices weren't raised, it was obvious we were fighting. And out of nowhere, little Bob picks up a chicken nugget from his plate and hurls it at the wall.
Look at me, look at me! Stop fighting and look at me!
I felt sick when I realized what had just happened, and that was the beginning of the end, so to speak. After that, I started planning my escape.
So the great mystery of Bob's outbursts over the last few weeks becomes a little more clear to me. If the adults in his life aren't happy, he ain't happy. It makes sense to me now. The problem is, I'm not really able to communicate this to the school without making it front-page news that the mommies are talking behind each others' backs.
So...I'm planning a birthday party with a forecast for rain and cold, an outbreak of disease, and depending on the outcome of today's court appearance, a guest of honor that may or may not even be present. Cross your fingers for me. I'll be on the witness stand sometime between 1:30 and 4:30. Central Shitstorm Time.
posted by Mitzi Green at 8:58 AM
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