It has been a few weeks since oldest started play therapy and, if I am honest with myself. I thought that it was really helping.
Last week was the last week of term and a challenging one as routines changed around grandparents who usually do school runs being on holiday. It meant that we used after school club (not an issues as they both enjoy it) more and I took time off to collect them. They coped amazingly well, so well in fact that on Friday I took them out for dinner and made a big fuss over how well they had behaved and how much I appreciated the fact that they had been so good and so helpful.
Friday evening concluded with a great evening for oldest at Beavers and bed. I, for the first time in many months, went out with some friends to an 80s night for a few drinks and a dance. I had a fabulous time.
Saturday morning dawned and everything changed.
He got out of bed like a bear with a sore head hell-bent on destroying everything and anything he could.
We had planned a weekend away at my parents which included a trip to a local theatre to see a production of a favourite story 'We're going on a bear hunt'. Youngest loved it to the point of tears when it ended because she didn't want it to end. Oldest sat stoic through it all barely cracking a smile, refusing to acknowledge when he was spoken to. I have no idea whether he even watched what was happening on the stage. Sadly he continued and I felt awful when it came to us going out for the evening leaving my parents to babysit.
Sunday morning he woke us with a temper that sleep had done nothing to improve - he has demanded to sleep on the camp bed in the room with us rather than in the small bedroom on his own (a reverse of how we usually have them when we stop over).
The drive home has to be on of the worst we have ever had. Oldest went from screaming because he didn't want to leave to sulking. He then got giddy, egged on by youngest who really has worked out how to push him buttons. After three quarters of the way home he demanded to stop somewhere for tea. We refused. We explained that his behaviour hadn't earned stopping where the golden M hangs (what he really wanted!) and that he could have something to eat when we got home. The giddy turned to anger and the shouting started - 'you will stop and buy me food', 'I am not going to do as I am told until you give me what I want' and variations of the above. All shouted through gritted teeth with as much anger and aggression as he could manage. Youngest thought this was a great game and joined her voice to his,
10 minutes of this and something in me snapped.
'Please stop the car'
My husband did so at the next layby.
I got out, opened the back door and calmly asked the children to exit the car. The refused, in hindsight they knew they had crossed a line. I explained to them that it they were going to continue to shout and scream at us they were not being in the car with us. I was no longer prepared to be spoken to with such rudeness and such a lack of respect. I undid oldest's seat belt and lifted him from the car and placed him on the grass verge. My husband undid youngest's seat belt and moved to her to where I could reach to remove her from the car. I explained to them both that there behaviour was unacceptable, that we were not there for them to shout at, scream at and demand things from. I stated that, with no compromise or bargaining they were not getting back into the car until the behaviour stopped (as well as the tears that had now started).
Eventually they got back in the car and we had a quiet 20 minute drive home.
Bed time was another matter. Youngest was quiet, compliant and apologetic. Oldest was defiant, rude and out to try and reassert some control over us.
I accept his need for control but he is a 6 year old boy and I will not allow him to grow up thinking he can have whatever he wants whenever he wants it regardless of any external factors nor that it is acceptable to shout and scream at people in order to get his own way.
No comments:
Post a Comment