Thursday, October 11, 2012


What was the last thing your child threw a temper tantrum over? Write a blog post from his/her point of view.

She is so cold and cruel.

It was so much fun and she had to come ruin it.

Doesn't she always?


She gets to type on that box and see the pretty colors and hear those black things go clickety-clack, clickety-clack. Well maybe I would like to see pretty colors and make really cool noises. But Nooooooo! I don't get to do that. Only her.


I thought I had my chance. Open lid on the box, her a room away, doing laundry. I'm a big boy now. I'm good at climbing. So I climbed. And there it was. Entertainment heaven! The bright box with the cool apple on it. I like apples. Box + apple + black clickety-clack keys + bright colors on a screen. It really doesn't get much better.

So I started clickety-clacketing. And I totally got why she does it so much. It's way fun. It's so super cool. I felt pretty important. And when I did the clickety clacks, I also made the box start making some pretty funky noises.

My bad.

She heard them.

And then I heard my full name.

Never---ever---a good sign.


Always a sign it's about to go down.

It's really not fair. She outweighs me by, well. . . I'm not good at math yet, but it's by a LOT, so when those hands go under my armpits to lift me up and away, I don't stand a chance. Though I do put up a good fight.

It's a fight that involves kicking and screaming. The screams are aimed at being so high-pitched that she has to drop me to cover her ears.

It never works. But I'm still perfecting the technique.

Seriously though, why in the world can I not touch that box like she can? Daddy touches it. Even Sissy gets to touch it. But can I?



Does she not see how devastating that is? That everyone gets the fun but not me? It makes me sad and confused. But I'm not sure how to say that. So I resort to the screaming. I think if I scream loud enough she'll feel bad. Guilty. Like she's a bad mother for showing favoritism to Sissy.

If the screams don't work the kicks do. I know that for a fact. I can make the breath come right out of her with a well aimed one to the stomach. The timing has to be just right. Gotta be before I get set down on the floor to finish up the scream fest. Sometimes I miss, but other times, I get it in.

The floor is it's own set of troubles for a tantrum, as I've heard her call these scream fests to Daddy. It's cold and it's hard. But I work that angle too. She must see that I'm hurting myself by kicking the floor. That's gotta make her feel bad.


Nope. She just walks away, with not one tear of pity.

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