The Cusp
Quick, I don’t have much time. I can’t let him see me, or he might guess what I’m doing and it’ll ruin EVERYTHING. I’m so afraid but I need to tell someone about it so that when it ends I’ll know it wasn’t just a dream.
You know how I’m always blogging about the times our three year old has been ‘difficult’, ‘contrary’ or, to put it simply, a little s**t? Well today…I hardly dare say it out loud. HE’S BEEN DELIGHTFUL…but I don’t think it’s going to last for much longer so I need to tell you about it before the transformation occurs at six o’clock.
My husband took our eldest to a car rally today that we thought Max was a little young for, so I promised an afternoon of ‘Mummy and Max’ time when our two year old was asleep. You have NEVER seen a little face light up so much at the idea of making cup cakes and eating them snuggled under a blanket, drinking hot chocolate and watching a DVD. I felt like Father Christmas.
We’ve had a ‘Hallmark’ moment as he held hands with our two year old and ran to make him laugh when we took the dog for a walk; he’s helped me to clean up by wiping the settee and sweeping up some crumbs with the dustpan and brush; he’s chastised me for helping him mix for the baking but politely so by asking, ‘Can I do it by myself please, Mummy?’
We’ve had fun and lots of cuddles but even as I speak, the mantra is beginning once more…’I want to be a good boy’, ‘I want to be a good boy’, ‘I want to be a good boy’ so I mustn’t look him directly in his eyes or I fear I may be hypnotised or turned to stone.
The giggles are still present but are verging on hysterical and he can still take a joke…but only just. There remains a thin veneer of playing nicely with his brothers but I can see the cracks starting to form as his hand lingers just a moment too long on a toy that he knows our two year old is playing with and he’s on the cusp of over-reacting to every little thing that our seven year old does to try to get him into as much trouble as humanly possible.
There are still dimples and a twinkle in his eye, but he’s just said, ‘Yeah, whatever’ to my husband when he asked him not to do something (I wouldn’t recommend he says THAT again any time in the near future) and I suspect we may be calling on a certain fast food retailer shortly to provide fatty, salty carbohydrates as a temporary antidote to an imminent tantrum.
Oh no. He knows. He’s seen me. I have to go, NOW. I always knew I’d be punished if I ever revealed that our very own Beelzebub has a lovely side…probably by a week of ‘I want to be a big boy’, ‘I want to be a big boy’, ‘I want to be a big boy’ until my head explodes and my brains splatter on the walls.
Well, it was nice while it lasted… 🙂