Smoldering

My brains are fried.  Last weekend was great if you only gauge it on how well Alex and his cousins got along and how much fun they had together.  If, however, you are gauging it on my darling little boy's behavior toward me, great doesn't really come to mind.  Unless you are thinking of great amounts of mom-style anger.

His attitude toward me can be summed up in one sentence...

He literally spit in my face at the pumpkin patch.

Yep, that happened.  He spit in my face as a response to me scolding him for running into a parking lot.  And while I silently carried him, he kept telling me that he spit in my face.  My rage was only superseded by the amount of strength it took for me to not beat the ever loving snot out of him right then and there.  We reached the hay bail his jacket was sitting on just as he said it again, and I broke my silence to tell him that was exactly why we were leaving that instant.  And the crying fit began.

I wrestled him into his car seat and as I was backing out he cried again that he wanted to stay.  I slammed on the brakes, spun around and very loudly informed him that due to his poor decision making he no longer gets what he wants.  The crying continued, so as I pulled out of the parking lot, I told him I didn't want to hear anymore crying and that he needed to sit in his seat and think about why I was so upset.  He clearly has yet to learn to admit nothing since he sat there rattling off different things he had done throughout the day that had upset me.  Way to add fuel to the fire that's burning your ass kiddo.