At swim class, out of 10 kids ranging from ages 3 to 5, he was the only one who:
- yelled ARGHHH every three seconds despite me: first asking him to quiet down, then requesting to him to STOP YELLING which was accompanied by my copyrighted death stare.
- used his arms to Alligator “bite” the three year old angel next to him. ARGHHH sound.
- refused to kick his legs or scoop his hands.
- Instead of facing his instructor, he sat wiggled with his back towards his teacher and played with the drain water.
- kept his hair dry.
- drank pool water while making direct eye contact with yours truly.
If I wasn’t fully versed with his medical history, I may have asked for a tongue depressor. He could have passed for an epileptic. Swim class was our reward for him potty training at the tender age of 3 years, 9 months, and 2 days. Brian and I told him, “You can’t learn to swim with diapers on.” A deliberate lie, but we were desperate. Now, I’ve decided waterproofing isn’t necessary.
In a two year span, we’ve gone from hearing Aws and He’s so cute to receiving silent glances. I know what the other parents are thinking. The same thing I did when I was on the opposing side. I thought, “Control your kid. Do something!” Now my brain calls out, “Someone control my kid! Somebody do something!”
Incident #2: Mother’s Day, at a friend’s parents house, he did his best Cleopatra imitation by rolling himself up in their rug. This unsavory behavior followed him product testing the cat toys. These objects withstood being thrown and hit against couch. He also utilized his time to test the finish of the living room door by hitting it with his plastic Iron Man. ARGHH sound was also used.
His preschool to the Cape May Zoo. A nice, quiet, and educational location. For most people, this was a cheap outing. The zoo charges zero dollars for admission. For me, since I took a vacation day, this cost me an entire day’s salary.
The day was going nicely, until he and his friend Dillon began training for the New York Marathon. When we separated the two children, my son’s mood plummeted into the depths of hell. Dante’s Circle 6.
He wouldn’t turn left or right. He needed to go into the gazebo. He had no desire to see the giraffes, lions, tiger, or bears. When we tried to take him to look at the alligators (his previous favorite), his legs stopped working and his vocal chords began expelling, “NOOOOO!!!! I’M AFRAID OF ALLIGATORS!!!!” Tears fell. Boogies accumuliated in his nostrils. Screaming ensued.
While he exercised his lungs, Brian and I took the opportunity to enjoy nearby the turtles. One of us would gaze back every 30 seconds to make sure that our child was the one making a scene and standing in the same exact place.
A concerned citizen worried aloud that this was a lost child. “Ut oh. Somebody’s kid.”
Brian reaausred this person, “He belongs to us. We know he’s there. We’re just waiting for him to finish.”
Thankfully, this sign reminded parents like us how not to deal with temper tantrums. This solution briefly crossed my mind.