Time Out

I sent Rhett to time out the other day - I can't even remember the crime - and didn't pay much attention as he walked over to get in the chair. I looked over to notice that he had grabbed Reese's baby on the way. He loved on that baby the whole time, comforting the baby in ways he probably wished his mean old mother would comfort him.

Here he is before he knew I was taking pictures of him -

And here he is after (the flash gave me away) -

You know, it seems that it takes away a bit of the "sting" of time out if they catch you taking pictures...but how else am I going to have a good collection to show during his Senior Breakfast?

I can't let a little thing like effective discipline get in the way of entertainment, so I just keep on snappin'. Even during a mealtime meltdown.

Notice the food hasn't even been placed in front of him yet. For all he knows, we're having marshmallows and Ding Dongs for dinner. Just the words "Dinner's ready!" send him into a Category 5 meltdown.

You could come to our house at mealtime and see this any night of the week, unless it's a special occasion (Mom's laziness constitutes a special occasion, right?) and Aaron has brought home McDonald's or something equally junky and artery-clogging. Oh, and unless he's been sent to his room for throwing a fit.

He literally just sits on his bed, looking depressed. He hasn't figured out that he could be playing with all of his toys and we would never know the difference. Nope. He's a good boy. He knows that he's in trouble, so he sits on his bed, in the "trouble" position. It's happened so often, that now, when I say "Come on guys, it's dinner time," he says "I go my room, Momma?" And for some reason, I always say no, even though I know this is where it's all gonna end. Sigh.

I will reflect back on this post one day when he's in high school and I want to complain that I can't keep food in the house because he's eating so much. Bigger sigh.