Tantrums and more tantrums

The tantrums started at 7:00am today. Joel stumbled out of bed and enquired as he does each morning, as to whether it was a nursery day. He didn’t like the answer (which was yes) and started to flail around on the floor. He’s so tall now that it’s starting to look a bit ridiculous. His long, lean limbs clad only in a pyjama top and little shorts kicking wildly into the air in defiance. I’m fairly sure I used to tantrum in a similar fashion right up until I was an adolescent. Some would probably argue that I still use this method to get my own way.

I find that being a parent reminds you of all kinds of things from your own childhood that you had long since forgotten. I reassured him that he liked nursery. I have a hell of a job coaxing him out of the place each evening, usually with the promise of a lolly pop but he was having none of it.

“I don’t like it and I don’t want to go” he repeated over and over and over and over.

The husband was still in bed and stuck his head under the covers. I knew it would only be a short moment before he could no longer stand Joel’s wailing. Seconds later he snapped “Joel either be quiet or go to your own room”. Joel ignored his first warning so his dad issued the caution again. On ignoring his warning a second time the husband got out of bed (which frankly was about time) and carried Joel into his own room, plonking him down on his bed.

“Ouch ouch you’ve hurt me daddy, stop it, ouch ouch, my neck hurts, don’t hurt me daddy”. He went on like this for several minutes, long after his dad had left the room and at the top of his voice. He has the loudest voice of any four year old I have every known and when he cranks the volume up he can be heard several streets away. I have aspirations for him to become a famous rock star one day, if this ever were to happen he wouldn’t need a microphone. He could fill Wembly and they’d be able to hear him at the back no problem. The windows were of course open leading the neighbours to further suspect that we are unfit parents. I will await a call from the Social Services department.

The husband returned to our bedroom. He had clearly made the situation far worse and I was annoyed. “Thanks for that”, I quipped. “You should stop going to bed so late and then you wouldn’t be so bad tempered in the morning”. “What’s your excuse?” He replied. I didn’t have one and I knew he had a valid point.

Little Louie was lying on the floor in front of the fan heater with his blanket and teddy watching quietly as his parents verbally abused one another. For months he has been the child who usually terrorises us but he seems to be going through a phase of deep introspective thought and calm. Maybe at the grand old age of 3 he's seen the error of his ways. We like this phase but we know it won’t last.

As is usually the case in our house the whole incident quickly blew over and harmony was restored. Joel calmed down and sat in front of the TV with his weetabix. Louie drank his milky and we got ready for work.