Edward: We should plant an evergreen tree in our back yard. Or front yard.
Mary: Well, we already have evergreen bushes in the front yard.
Edward: Yeah, but evergreen trees have great branches for climbing. (Observation based on two recent park visits.)
Mary: Yes, but if we planted an evergreen tree in our yard now, by the time it was big enough to climb you'd be an adult. Maybe your kids could climb it if Dad and I still live in that house.
Daniel: I'm not having kids.
Mary: Oh, really. Why not.
Daniel: It's too much.
Mary: Too much what?
Daniel: Too much 'sponsibility. I can only take care of myself.
Too true. Hard to believe that such profound rational thought could transition to blind rage within the hour. This conversation happened as we drove home from an afternoon outing at The Iowa Children's Museum. Edward's camp is there this week, so I told Daniel we could stay and play after we picked Ed up. (Most other days this week John will pick up; this week is a little tricky with trying to be in two places at once.)
They had a great afternoon and even left without protest when I said it was time to go. I made sure to compliment them on this good behavior and agreed that after such a busy afternoon (they were basically in constant motion for two hours among the exhibits) it would be good to relax with a bit of TV when we got home.
But 10 minutes into the TV time, Edward screamed in pain and it was revealed that Daniel had pinched and hit him (I think related to the remote control.) So I told him his TV time was over and sent him to time out. This produced a raging fit worthy of The Hulk himself. At one point he screamed at me so loudly and in a position so close to Edward that Edward actually started crying in pain and holding his ear (which is being treated for an infection at the moment.)
As Daniel dug in his heels and refused to go to time out I started counting, which he hates, but I told him I'd stop counting as soon as his body was moving toward time out. His version of "moving" was to propel himself into me, hitting and pushing. I told him if he wasn't in time out by the time I got to 10, I'd take away his Lego. When I got to 10 not only was he not in place, but he also hit me again, so I took away all the Lego and left him in his room still raging. He started slamming his door, but I worked hard to ignore it. Until I heard the splintering of wood and his raging tears turned fearful.
He had been pushing his door wider open, presumably to increase the force of the slam and managed to rip the hinge completely out of the wall, cracking the trim around the door.
When I realized what had happened I looked at him and walked away. He screamed for me, but I said, "I'm too mad to talk to you right now," at which point he returned to his raging screams of "Mommy is stupid!" A few minutes later all was quiet. He had screamed himself into exhaustion and fallen asleep.
Edward and I played some games and read some books while he slept. He crept down while we were reading, and when we finished the book I told him we needed to talk before he could come down and asked him to sit with me in his room. He would not talk to me so I told him to call me when he was ready and suggested he probably would want to talk to me before Daddy got home. (I didn't really mean it as a "wait 'til your father sees this!" threat. More like "You'd rather deal with us one at a time.") As soon as John's key turned in the lock, Daniel called that he was ready to talk. (John had been briefed on the situation by email and Facebook.)
We talked about anger - how it feels (bad) and what makes him angry (time-out.) We also talked about who got hurt today--Edward's original injury, me when he hit/pushed/body slammed me and hurt feelings when he was saying "Mommy is stupid," his hurt feelings in time out, and the whole family/house with the broken door.
For now his door is taken away, though this is not as effective a punishment for a four-year-old as it would be for, say, a 14-year-old. In fact it may be more of a punishment for John and me. We'll see.
We've also reinstated daily rest time because the post-tantrum nap (which also happened yesterday with less collateral damage) is proof that he is wrong to tell me he doesn't need it. I know he does, but I haven't been fighting that battle most of the summer. Again, we'll see how that goes. It won't be restful for either of us if I have to spend an hour telling him to stay put. But the missing door and cracked jamb may be enough of a visceral reminder to carry us through for a while. Once school starts again he'll be back to that routine as they have a lights-out, rest-on-cot time each day. The kids don't have to sleep, but they have to stay on their cots.
Last week when Edward was having trouble in the evenings following his only full-day camp of the summer, I wondered aloud to John whether I'd actually done a disservice by bending over backward to enroll them only for half-day programs in the summer. They had the stamina for the full day during the school year and right now they clearly do not. John reassured me that we were right to give them that flexible free time in the summer. They got used to the full day schedule last fall and they'll get back to it in a few weeks.
I never wanted to be one of those parents who start a Hallelujah chorus when the kids go back to school, but it's really time.
