The School Year Has Only Been Over For Mere Hours. . .

. . . and for those of you counting at home, I’ve already been told, “I hate you” and “You’re mean.”

The scene: Kid runs into the room where I’m trying — in vain — to finish an assignment.

Kid: Can I have a snack?

Me: No. (The kid just ate a little while ago and will have a snack later, I think.)

Kid: (*throws self into the sofa, head-first, whines, stomps feet*) Can I have a snack?

Me: (*no response, continues typing*)

Kid: (*whiny*) Can I have a snack?

Me: (*grits teeth then answers calmly*) I already answered that question. (*pause*) No.

Kid: (*drills self into the sofa head-first again, stomps more*) Can I have a snack?

Me: Strike one. (We’ve enacted a three strikes system of discipline for the summer.)

Child runs into the other room screaming, “I hate you! You’re mean! Bad Mommy!” Minutes later, he’s back, as if nothing had just occurred. Standing nearby me and, after molding some clay into the form of a drill asks, “Mom do you like the drill?”

When does school start?

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