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| FML |
Today I went on a field trip with Spawnling's class. It's been a tough time for the little guy. He said goodbye to his teachers and all his friends, changed schools just weeks before the end of the year, and jumped from the end of kindergarten to the end of grade 1 - where a lot more is expected of him.
And did I mention the second language component? Grade 1 French Immersion is a lot harder than Kindergarten French Immersion. Reading, writing, speaking in full sentences. He's been working really hard.
But overall, he's been doing ok. I mean, if you ignore a few things. Like the fact that he's been kind of a jerk lately.
Oh, don't look at your screens like that. I've called him worse things in my head. Unconditional love and a fear of emotionally scarring my offspring means I don't say them out loud, that's all.
There was that time a couple of days ago when I had taken him out to practice riding his new bike even though I was dead tired and wanted to do nothing more than watch Teen Wolf episodes and eat carbs. He had a blast riding in a large concrete play area behind a nearby school. The sky was spitting raindrops, and when a downpour hit, we hid in a doorway, half soaked, and laughed ourselves silly. I cheered him on as he rode, he stopped, smiled and gave me a hug. "I love you," he said. I told him I loved him, too.
Then it was time to go home.
"Can you walk my bike back for me? I'm not ready to ride on the sidewalk yet," he explained.
"It would be easier if you walked it back because I'd have to bend over a lot and I might hurt my back," I countered.
He glared at me. "So you're not going to help your son?"
"You can walk your bike back, buddy. It's your bike."
"And I'm your child. Nice. Thanks a lot for NOT HELPING ME. You suck. You're the worst mother ever."
Zero to ten, just like that. And with sarcasm, even.
And you are being a dick, I wanted to say. But I didn't. Instead, we had a talk about respect and kindness and the proper usage of sarcasm, which is not to insult one's mother.
It's been happening a lot lately. The other night, after spending a wonderful evening of video games and books and fun with his youngest son, Geekster told Spawnling it was time for bed.
"What? It's bedtime? No. I'm not going."
"Yes you are," said Geekster.
"No, I'm not."
I'll spare you the back and forth, but within three or four minutes it ended up with Spawnling in his room, swinging at his dad and yelling, "You're the worst dad EVER! You suck! YOU SUCK! I hate you! I want mom! She's way better than you!"
He had clearly already forgotten that whole worst-mom-ever-won't-bring-my-bike-home shit I pulled.
And you need to stop acting like the poster child for vasectomies and get your pyjamas on, I wanted to say. But I didn't. Eventually, we calmed him down and he apologized to his dad. But it was like an entire year of my PMS days thrown into a six-year-old for an hour. I almost threw chocolate at him and backed out of the room.
Add to this that he's been physical with some of the kids at school, teasing classmates, and getting so distracted that he now sits alone at a desk instead of in a group. I spoke at length with his teacher about it during today's museum field trip. I tried not to take any of it personally. I really did. I was doing a good job at it, too.
And then I found out about Spawnling's sister.
"So you also have a little girl at home?" the teacher asked conversationally.
I told her we did not.
"Really? I could have sworn Spawnling told us about a sister."
"You must be thinking about someone else. We have three boys. We--" And that's when I saw his face out of the corner of my eye. That mischievous, knowing, thankfully adorable little face.
"I lied," he said. And giggled.
What. The. Flipping. Christ.
It turns out Spawnling's imaginary sister is named Julia, although now he wishes he had named her Bartholomew because it's better. She's 4, and she just had a birthday. She's gone on all our vacations and she's quite funny. She's also annoying, but that's what little sisters are like.
Spawnling apparently wove tales of hilarity around life with Julia. He made the class laugh several times with stories of her antics, and made her so believable that there was never a doubt in his teacher's mind she was real.
I'm sort of half embarrassed and half amused and half concerned and completely sure I need to brush up on my fractions right after this post. I'm also feeling a tad guilty because this isn't the first time Spawnling has insisted on a sister, and we have absolutely no intention of giving him one. Like, ever. If you're unsure as to why, please read the first half of this blog post over again. Then pour yourself a shot of something strong and drink it in my honour.
And again.
And again until half the bottle's gone. Do it for Maven.
This is completely uncharted territory for us. Neither of Spawn's brothers ever made up a sibling. Of course, he might come by this honestly. I once lied about it being my birthday at my daycare centre so I could get cake and a party hat. When my parents showed up, they were berated for not mentioning my birthday, while I sat there reminding myself that chocolate sprinkle cake outweighed the trouble I was about to be in.
And look at me. I turned out just fine.
Anyway, um, is this normal? This lying stuff? This extreme attitude stuff? Could he be having a delayed reaction to moving? Is he just taking this opportunity to reinvent himself? Get a fresh start? Is this worthy of a trip to Dr. Psychologist?
Oh, don't be surprised. This is my family. Of course we have a psychologist.