July 12th, 2011
So yesterday, Pudding punches his sister in the arm while we’re driving in the car.
This is not new. This is often how he vents his frustration with her, and believe me, I understand how he can get frustrated with his bossy/overbearing/cooing sister. Whatever she’s doing, she usually goes over the top with, whether it’s giving him kisses or explaining something to him in tones that are insulting even to a 4-year old. I keep telling her, he’s 4. 4 does not mean idiot.
But, of course, I have still tried to get him to understand that he should use his words to express himself, not his hands. (I can’t wait until he gets older and I can teach him some really choice words to use with other people…) But more often than not, when Punksin is upinhisfacelikethis, he reverts to the hands.
So I launch into my tirade:
“Pudding, you have to STOP HITTING YOUR SISTER. I have told you this SO MANY TIMES! NO HITTING! If she is bothering you, you TELL her to STOP. Tell her you don’t LIKE IT. But you keep hitting her and I am TIRED OF TELLING YOU THIS, to STOP HITTING YOUR SISTER. It is NOT NICE and you have to STOP DOING IT. Use your WORDS, not your HANDS. We don’t hit people and you should not be hitting YOUR SISTER.”
For a minute, I don’t hear anything. Then he says:
“You know, you don’t have to be so mean about it.”
!!!!!!!!!!!!! WTF? He’s slugging her like he’s in a bar brawl between Red Sox and Yankee fans, but when I tell him it’s not nice, I’m the one who’s mean.
So I fling back:
“Well, if you think that’s mean, imagine how YOUR SISTER feels! It’s also mean to HIT someone. And the reason I am BEING MEAN is because YOU are NOT LISTENING although I have told you this A THOUSAND TIMES. And I am going to get MEANER if you keep DOING IT.”
I barely hear the muttered response:
“I’m just saying. You could be a little nicer about it.”
While I sat there fuming and trying to think of something scathing to say that would not totally go over his head and would still contain printable language, he blissfully began talking about something else, and the moment was lost.
I hate when that happens.