With all the crazytown shenanigans at home, sometimes, First Son gets the shaft in terms of individual attention. It’s tough when more than one kid cries, because I’m like, which one do I take care of first? (I’d says it’s like Sophie’s Choice, but that analogy is more apropos when there’s no children involved, like if I’m extremely torn between getting Tast-D Lite versus Pinkberry, that’s a Sophie’s Choice, you feel me?)
Anyway, in the middle of crazytown, sometimes, I feel torn in several directions and lose my patience when First Son acts out, which really, if you’re really paying attention to him, he behaves like Gentleman Baby. When you don’t, it can be bad. I lose it and curse. Argh.
I hugged him last night after a mini-blow-up and told him I really hope he remembers sitting together, singing and playing, the good times that far outnumber the bad moments rather than the times I turn into Atila the Hun and curse a blue streak.