Today started out to be the shittiest day. Yesterday, Walter was in trouble. I don't remember what for. There's this thing going on with my heathens. I'm all worn out and uptight, stressing about moving and such, which means I'm a mess. They pick up on that and become little monsters with temper tantrums and bad attitudes. So, Walter was in trouble, at the end of being in trouble, I toss out a half-assed "go clean something." This is a punishment I have no trouble what-so-ever following through on because it doesn't even matter. So, Walter half-assed the living room. Good enough. He cleaned something, as demanded. I'm satisfied that my parenting obligation has been fulfilled.
The Goofy One has something new going on- fear. I don't know if it's maturing or the meds he's on or what, but he has fear now. He has the kind that's considered good sense- you don't walk out in front of cars, you don't get close to wild animals, you don't sit on the back porch after dark. And then he has the other kind. He woke up in the very early hours of this morning freaking out that he saw a flash of light in the back yard. I don't know what he saw or what he thought he saw, but he was afraid. He woke me up to tell me so. I didn't appreciate that anywhere near as much as I should have because his cat has been going nuts all night long, running here and there and jumping all over the couch, so I was a little too tired to do more than kick the covers aside at the end of the couch to make room for him, and grumble at him to get in and go to sleep. Dozing back off, I did take a second to smile and think to myself, "hell, yeah. progress."
I swear, it seemed like I had barely closed my eyes before I was waken up again. One problem with our current sleeping arrangements is me and Alex are at opposite ends of the house. I can't hear him and my ex-husband closes his door so he doesn't have to hear Alex's middle of the night serenades. No one heard last night's dance party, and it looked like it was a blast. So much so that we had to rent a carpet cleaner to clean up. I'm thinking about a baby monitor.
Throughout the clean up and getting ready for school, my Goofy Child has thousands of observations. There's cat poop in the bathroom floor, he tells me. I know that can't be right because our cats don't make messes. They're good cats. Getting Alex in the bath, sure enough... cat droppings. So not cool. I'm trying to clean Alex while Goofy sits on the toilet chattering away, when Goofy starts nagging Alex for playing with his belly button. "Mom, that's why he poops so much, he's tickling his belly button. It's probably asthma." I was laughing too hard to correct him. I get Alex out and dressed while Goofy gets in.
Back in the kitchen, handing out toasted waffles, I look over and there's more cat poop in the floor! What the hell is going on!? I look up...there's a hamper blocking the door to the litter box. Well played, Walter. Well played. I'll have to remember that next time I toss out a half-assed "go clean something." I think that kid needs to learn some fear.