Thursday, October 15, 2009

My Son the Hooligan

Donovan broke a window at daycare yesterday. Not just any window, mind you; an antique bowed window, original glass, in the little victorian house where his daycare group is headquartered.

The good news is that nobody got hurt. So far, no one can tell us if we are going to get a bill for the damages or not. It was an accident but I really don't see how we will get out of not paying for this eventually.

But the bigger issues are the developmental ones. How do you explain to a kid who can't talk not to throw things at the window? Obviously you tell him the same way you tell a kid who can talk but how do you know he understands? How can you talk him thru it?

Full disclosure: I'm tired. I'm tired of living with a kid who can't talk. I'm tired of guessing what his grunts mean, I'm tired of not knowing what he understands and what he doesnt. I'm tired of trying to play pretend games with him and having him walk away to spin yet another plate on the goddamn linoleum in the kitchen. I'm tired of not being able to have any sort of reward system for good behavior because he can't grasp the concept. And I'm jealous, jealous, jealous of all the parents of 2 year olds who get to hear what their kids are thinking about from the kids themselves. Do you know how fantastic that is? To hear what your kid is thinking at the time of the thought?

Everyone says once he starts talking he won't stop and I'll wish he would. I know that is said from a place of love but I'm calling a moratorium: no one is allowed to say that to me anymore.

We rescheduled Donny's developmental appointment to Monday, which is good in so many ways, namely that its soon and that we have the weekend to hide the incriminating evidence of our raggedy everyday lives. Details, hopefully of a more enjoyable variety, will follow.

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