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Sometimes he gets very upset about homework.
He gets furious that he has to do it so many nights. He hates it when we tell him that he has made mistakes, and needs to correct them. He's not like that every night, mind you; only sometimes. Handwriting homework is the worst for him. He's like me; his handwriting is pretty bad, and it's a real chore for him.
Last night was one of the bad nights. He shouted, and screamed, and finally we sent him to his room. He doesn't like to be alone on a floor; it scares him a little, I think. But I would have gone upstairs to play on the computer in the den anyway.
After a while, I heard his bedroom door open. He walked out carrying a huge bundle: his stretchy blue sheet tied into a pack, of sorts, and filled with stuff. It was almost as big as he was.
"I'm running away!" he shouted, and started down the stairs.
It's difficult to describe how I felt. It was simultaneously utterly heartbreaking and unbearably funny; he looked so cute! But I had to avoid laughing.
It was a long evening of conversation. First he said he'd be sleeping outside, under the stars. His pack was full of pillows, some stuffed animals, and a toy or two. I pointed out that there were animals outside, skunks and possums and raccoons.
So then he said he'd walk to Teri's mother's house, and live with her for five days. "How will you get there?" I asked. He told me he'd walk.
"But you don't know how to get there! Do you even know which way to go down our street?"
He looked puzzled, and then either guessed or remembered. Her house is a good five or six miles away at least, with many turns, so he'd never have made it. Then we started asking him how he would live. We reminded him of all the toys he'd be leaving behind, and all the stuffed animals - not to mention the Wii and his new Godzilla Unleashed game.
A period of thinking followed.
Eventually he told me that he would run away in his own room, by setting up a campsite and sleeping on the floor. But the floor, though covered with a soft carpet, was still not comfortable enough for sleeping. So he set up pillows at the foot of his bed, and made a place for me to sleep beside him. He assigned a spot at the former head of the bed for Teri.
It was all so cute.
By the way, he did finish his homework. I wouldn't want anyone to think he'd successfully diverted us from that.
I read to him for a while, and then sang him to sleep. He kissed my broken elbow a couple of times. God, I'm going to miss this stage when he grows up.
He gets furious that he has to do it so many nights. He hates it when we tell him that he has made mistakes, and needs to correct them. He's not like that every night, mind you; only sometimes. Handwriting homework is the worst for him. He's like me; his handwriting is pretty bad, and it's a real chore for him.
Last night was one of the bad nights. He shouted, and screamed, and finally we sent him to his room. He doesn't like to be alone on a floor; it scares him a little, I think. But I would have gone upstairs to play on the computer in the den anyway.
After a while, I heard his bedroom door open. He walked out carrying a huge bundle: his stretchy blue sheet tied into a pack, of sorts, and filled with stuff. It was almost as big as he was.
"I'm running away!" he shouted, and started down the stairs.
It's difficult to describe how I felt. It was simultaneously utterly heartbreaking and unbearably funny; he looked so cute! But I had to avoid laughing.
It was a long evening of conversation. First he said he'd be sleeping outside, under the stars. His pack was full of pillows, some stuffed animals, and a toy or two. I pointed out that there were animals outside, skunks and possums and raccoons.
So then he said he'd walk to Teri's mother's house, and live with her for five days. "How will you get there?" I asked. He told me he'd walk.
"But you don't know how to get there! Do you even know which way to go down our street?"
He looked puzzled, and then either guessed or remembered. Her house is a good five or six miles away at least, with many turns, so he'd never have made it. Then we started asking him how he would live. We reminded him of all the toys he'd be leaving behind, and all the stuffed animals - not to mention the Wii and his new Godzilla Unleashed game.
A period of thinking followed.
Eventually he told me that he would run away in his own room, by setting up a campsite and sleeping on the floor. But the floor, though covered with a soft carpet, was still not comfortable enough for sleeping. So he set up pillows at the foot of his bed, and made a place for me to sleep beside him. He assigned a spot at the former head of the bed for Teri.
It was all so cute.
By the way, he did finish his homework. I wouldn't want anyone to think he'd successfully diverted us from that.
I read to him for a while, and then sang him to sleep. He kissed my broken elbow a couple of times. God, I'm going to miss this stage when he grows up.
