It’s been a whole week since he turned five. Wow.
In that week he’s learned to ride a scooter, eaten a fully loaded taco with sour cream, picked his nose in front of our entire church congregation and told me with absolute finality that he does not love me and doesn’t want to be a part of my family.
Can we go back to four, please?
Granted, the last bit had more to do with the fact that I threw him into an ice cold shower because he wouldn’t stop screaming in anger at the top of his lungs at me that he didn’t want to and wasn’t going to go to bed. So he got a cold shower. It’s what we call “shocking the crazy” out of a kid.
I totally loved on him after he’d calmed down, rubbing his little body warm with a towel, but he’d have none of it. He just kept telling me how mean I was and that he didn’t love me. I don’t care how funny a situation it is or how strong a mom you are – those words hurt.
It told him that it hurt my feelings when he said that.
We had a great day today – lots of loves and snuggles, a few good rounds of Go Fish, Old Maid and Animal Rummy, homemade chocolate chip cookies and lots of play time outside. But then at the end of the night when I went to kiss him and tuck him in and told him I loved him, he told me he needed to share a secret with me that I wouldn’t like.
“Momma, I don’t love you.” he whispered with an impish grin on his face.
What am I going to do with this kid?