Magic Number...

So this will be my 14th post in this blog... a new record for me. No blog that I've had has ever had this many posts. How pathetic.

We spent the day dealing with a lot of tears. Aren't holiday weekends supposed to be fun and relaxing? Not here. One of my boys spent the morning crying that he didn't want to go to the city (which he had told me previously that he wanted to do), but this child is famous within these walls for changing his mind... so I got all ready, fully expecting him to change his mind like he usually does. But he didn't budge this time, darnit. So I'm all excited to go, and he's put a total wet blanket on the "fun day with mom". Thanks, buddy. Love you too. So instead we went to Costco and bought large quantities of artichoke dip and cheese crackers. Thrilling.

After lunch, the other son decides that he's been left out of this morning's fun of crying, so now it's his turn. Oh goody. I couldn't even tell you what set it off. But all of a sudden, we're in the throws of "You HATE me!" "You do everything you can to make me miserable!" Dangit, he's caught on (and if you think I'm serious, stop reading my blog). I told him that if I really hated him, I would make him sleep outside, to which he responded, "Dad is the reason I don't. He loves me more than you do." There is no response to this nonsense. So I told him that he was being ridiculous and the conversation was over. What else could I do? I cannot have a conversation with someone that irrational and full of tears for no apparent reason.

What does a mom do? He KNOWS I love him, and, when he's more rational, he tells me he knows it. It's not as if I ignore him, or make him sleep in the basement, or any other number of ways that would legitimately make life miserable. But OH, the angst of being almost eight years old. I thought this was only girls who led lives of drama like this.