Rough Night of Tantrums

Timer is on for five minutes.  Bedtime.  They go down no matter the state of their preparation.  It’s been an absolute disaster evening.  The kids (all three of ours plus the two that were dinner guests) wouldn’t eat their dinner.  Brian and Lyndi had to trick, bribe and bamboozle each and every single bite for the entire meal times five kids.  Exhausting.  All this amidst ample amounts of whining. 

We thought having friends to dinner would be fun.  Turned out to be pure misery.  Then they went to play after dinner. All five of them. Fight.  Fight. Kick. Fight.  Tattle tale.  Fight. Push.  Shove.  Fight. Fight. Hit.  Tattle.  Fight. Finally seven o’clock came around and we gave up.  To be fair I doubt we would have had much more success if we had only our three instead of the extra friends.  So the friends went home across the hallway at the hotel and our kids were instructed to get ready for bed.  Tantrums followed. Many, many tantrums. “Time outs” for both Maddie and Ben.  Screaming louder and louder about the unfair and abusive world that is so oppressive to our young children.  Brian began a countdown with which they are quite familiar.  Three.  Another defiant remark or kick or hit.  Two.  More disobedience.  One.  Last straw.  When dad says zero the world ends.  In bed exactly as they are.  Play clothes on, no teeth brushed, whatever they are.  Bedtime.

Still Ben cannot do the simplest thing and is wildly flailing his limbs all over the place making it dangerous to be in a five foot radius anywhere near him.  He screams, “I know!!!  Do you think I don’t have a brain?”

Brian: “I do know you have one, but it isn’t showing right now.”

Ben: “Oh yeah? Then how do I know that two plus two equals four?!?!?!”

Brian: “Well do you know what one minus one is?”
Ben (still screaming): “ZERO!!!”

Brian: “Yep.  And if I get to that number you’re going to bed just like that.”

Ben whimpering goes to brush his teeth.  I’m grateful to be washing dishes so Ben doesn’t see me laugh at his attempt to logically reason with his father.

It’s going to be a long, long night until they fall asleep.  They ultimately lost the privilege to clean their room.  Not so bad one might think, but the maid comes tomorrow.  I tell them that anything they leave out may not be found again when she is done.  It isn’t her job to care for their toys and they could get vacuumed up or stuck in the bed sheets she takes away.  It’s served as a sufficient threat so far.  Ben is beside himself with worry now that his toys are lost forever.  The only comfort I can offer is that if he behaves in the morning he will have time to finish cleaning his room and all will be saved.  If he didn’t doddle in the morning he would actually have about forty minutes.  He’ll be just fine.  It’s just tonight we have to make it through.