Old Yeller

I'd like to think that I'm a pretty good parent and that I'm compassionate and understanding of my child's needs. I'd like to think that. Then comes a morning like this one when Comet refuses, for the third day in a row, to get up for school. Okay, so I go in there with the cajoling, the understanding. "I know it's early and you're tired, but you're going to have fun at school today." Not even close. I go so far as to read him a book, "Dinner at the Panda Palace," an all time favorite. Nothin' doin'. And still the clock ticks away the minutes until bus time. I begin to get a bit terse and become a tight talker. Does this work? No. Then my voice raises and I decide to leave the room and go about my business downstairs hoping that Comet's need to pee will win out over his desire to sleep (drive Mama crazy).

And I'm right. I hear the thump, thump, slam of Comet hitting the bathroom. Then there's a wail for "Mama!" to come upstairs. But I am so done with this drama that I wait it the kitchen, making breakfast, putting the finishing touches on the old lunch box, and finally he comes downstairs and he has his clothes with him, except his socks. I have happily anticipated him/been a bad housekeeper and there happen to be clean socks on the sofa. To which Comet announces, "I am not getting dressed!" Great.

Okay, onto breakfast. And here I make a fatal mistake. There's always a fatal parental mistake on a bad school morning, isn't there? I decide it would be fun to make up a story game with the sight words he is studying, and I use the term loosely, for school. Oh, the anguish. "I can't EAT while you READ those WORDS!" Nuff said, I calmly read him from his History of the World book, cheerily relating how the early Muslims killed the Christians, and the early Christians killed them right back. How people were murdered or forced into slavery. Plus the pillaging, burning and unmentioned raping that went on. This he loves to hear about. The words "there" and "with." Not so much.

But there's more! Comet, who has eaten about a micron of breakfast, says "I want to show you a surprise!" He runs off to the dining room and brings back a Lindt chocolate truffle. "Daddy said I could eat this after breakfast!" he announces joyfully. Now, Daddy is not a fool and if anyone would have made the mistake of telling him he could eat it after breakfast, that fool would have been me. And I didn't do it. I calmly explain that he hasn't even eaten his breakfast, and that I want him to put the candy in his lunch box to eat after lunch.

ALL.HELL.BREAKS.LOOSE. Comet will not put the candy in his lunch box or put it down. In the mean time, I am trying to get him to dress and during this totally fun experience he informs me the "Ha, ha, I'm going to eat it while I walk down the driveway to the school bus!" Was it the deviousness of his plan or that "Ha, Ha!" that drove me over the edge? "You can't have the candy at all!" I declare and wrestle it out of his tight little fist. There is much screaming and grabbing and hating. (Aside: This is the boy who, after a summer spent listening to Little Shop of Horrors and learning that the plants would give you anything you wanted as long as you fed them fresh blood said, "I would feed the plants for all of the candy in the whole world!" He loves him some candy.) Okay, now huge screaming, kicking, refusal to put on shoes. And time is a tickin' away! It's after seven, the bus comes at 7:10. We have a loooooong driveway.

Finally, I call in reinforcements! "GAMEGUY" I bellow. Gameguy comes downstairs and tries to shoe and comfort our hysterical child. I try not to hit anyone. The coat is on and we have lift off! Oh, no we don't, because Comet has run back into the interior of the house. Cajoling and yelling on the part of his parents, along with a bit of physical assistance from GG and we are on the porch. It is still possible that we will catch the bus.

I try to lighten the mood. Mention the herd of deer I see up ahead. Comet is not interested. He's back to wailing about his candy and doing this robot walk every time I ask him to walk down the driveway, at which point I lose it and emit an ear piercing shriek! I partially drag him and then decide to walk. Time is going fast. We will miss the bus! I do not wish to get into a habit of driving a certain someone to school because he won't move his booty. I take off ahead of him and for Comet it's z trail of tears and recriminations down the hill. I don't think I could walk as slowly as he did if I tried. I emit another awful shriek, then decide to just shut up and walk down to the bus stop. He is still yards and yards behind me, all I can see is the little flashes of his light up sneakers, slowly blink blinking down the driveway.

The bus gets to our stop and I wave the driver on (she has to turn around and pass our house again on the way out.) Somehow, and I really don't know how, Comet makes it to the bus stop a minute before the bus comes. He's upset, I'm upset. I say, "I'm sorry for yelling and getting mad at you," to which her replies, "I'm not." Okay. I watch his little self cross the road and get on the bus and feel sad, mad and relieved all at once. What a horrible morning.

Cut to an hour and a half later when I go to his class to volunteer and he is all hugs and kisses and "I love you Mommy!" Can this be the same child on the same day?