Pet rock

September 19th, 2005

PJ has been carrying around this large fist size rock for several days. She is calling it her baby, kissing it, taking very good care of it and bringing it everywhere she goes.

On our way home from the gym today, she threw a complete tantrum walking out the double doors, wanting to carry her glass of water and balance on the wall that is 1 ½ times her size, at the same time. The new rule I have imposed on my kids at the gym is, no cup of water = you can balance on the wall, cup of water = you walk on the side walk with mom.

She made her choice to get a cup of water. And then decided she wanted to walk on the wall, which of course did not wash with me. So, she tantrumed herself to the car, dropping the water, spilling it all over the ground, then she opened the van door and ran out into the parking lot.

White hot rage is now setting in.

I grab her, put her in her seat all the while getting hit in the arms and then the face and then bit in the hand.

Tunnel vision and numb arms starting to set in.

Once everyone is in the car, PJ continues to have her tantrum but now she is pinned down in the car seat and all her energy is bubbling up and spewing out her mouth as we drive off.

And then…through her sobs and screams, she holds her baby rock up and in a frenzy tells me she is going to throw it at me. Time stopped. I have never been so scared of my child in all my life. She would throw that fucking rock at me, I know she would.

So, traveling at 70 miles per hour I reach back and nab the rock out of her hands and immediately burst into tears.

Today she could have not only hurt herself, but me, her siblings and some other random car driving down the road.

Thus concludes my lesson for the day, no more rocks in the car; I don’t care how much you love them!

Comments RSS

Leave a Reply

Name (required)

Email (required)


Speak your mind