Tantrums, aren’t they a good one, always a pleasure, always loads of fun. And they know, these kids, they know when it’s the last thing you need, as you plead, then hang your head in despair and through silent tears things become a blur.
The First Born, his meltdowns are something new and I find myself wondering, when did he turn so blue? His stroppy teenage style shouts have our eyes popping out. No longer can he walk up any stairs without growling how he doesn’t care. He’s jumped ten years overnight and obviously, he’s always right.
The Girl, she’s fiery and there are times I envy her sass, but when she’s mad, her screams break glass. She’s one that will grow to hold her own, at least until we buy her a phone. Our days are filled with endless bribes, warnings and desperate cries, sagging shoulders and swollen eyes.
But The Kid, oh The Kid, I’ve seen everything now, even when he’s falling down, his drama’s a giggle as he carefully gets on the floor and rolls to his belly and screams some more. His little legs they kick, his arms flap about and when things go quite his little head peaks out. With a slight pause, he likes to assess the damage he’s caused, hiding his grin, he knows he’s in for a win.
Yes, tantrums, they seem never really to end as their growing personalities blend. As I turn to Dad and sigh out my defeat and on a beat, our eyes meet, each knowing what the other thinks and in a blink… he passes the wine.
