Sometimes, I'm a really bad mom. Did you ever have a time when you just want to laugh at (not with) your kids and poke fun at them, even provoke them a little? This evil little part of you creeps to the surface and rears it's ugly head; you know, that part that's about 6 years old??? Sometimes I just have to let it out, I can't help it. I think when you go a little mentally insane temporarily, it helps to keep that from being a permanent condition.
Anyhow, we were walking back from our morning school drop-off, and L was riding his bike. He still has training wheels, and while maybe about 50% of boys his age don't, I'm not in any hurry to take them off for him. That would be a huge lesson in frustration (both his and mine from having to hear him scream, he is NOT a persistent, go-getter-keep-at-it-till-ya-drop type of kid). So instead, I raised them up about as high as they'll go, so that he teeters from one side to the other, and hopefully, learns to balance in the middle without too many accidents. He's been doing really well, but for some reason this morning, and only on the way back from school, he started to struggle. He began to fight the bike, first leaning one way, reefing on the handlebars to straighten up, then the other way. The more he fought, the worse it got, till it looked like he was riding sideways, leaning waaaaaaayyy over to one side. It looked ridiculous. and he became more and more frustrated, starting to whine and cry and curse and swear (well, in his own limited swearing vocabulary, thank god - "STUPID BIKE" "I HATE THIS DUMB THING!!")
I, on the other hand, was walking behind him becoming more and more annoyed at him because why the hell can't he ride the damn thing like he did five minutes ago? What is his problem? Just ride the effing thing like a normal kid, and stop being such a wimp!!
Then I lost it. It was either this, or start screaming at him till I ended up taking the bike away indefinitely. I started to laugh. He just was so ridiculous. And I know it was mean, and wasn't helping matters, but I couldn't stop. It wasn't a quiet giggle either, it was a loud, maniacal laugh; so much so, that the other kids were looking at me like, "What is this woman's problem?"
Thank God there were no other parents around. Who knows what they would think. Probably that a white unmarked van was about to show up out of which would hop two guys in jumpsuits toting a stretcher.
To top it off, when he burst into tears at his mother's unbelievable cruelty, I walked away from him saying, "See you later, L." Poor child. It will be a miracle if he doesn't end up in therapy.