Anyone who’s ever been near a just-recovered toddler has probably experienced this. They always want to keep to their “sick privileges”.
Rockstar wakes several times a night for a glass of water, or just for a little lurve (not seeming to care that at 3.45am you don’t really feel any love flowing.)
Then there’s this morning.
“Mar-meeeeEEEEEEEE….!”
“Mah-mah-mah-meeeeeeee!”
“Mammy. Mum. Mar-mee.”
You are a slave at your beloved, your little innocent child’s beck and call.
“Want water PLEEEEEAAAASE…”
“You have water on the table.”
“Want Mickey Mouse mug PLEEEEEAAAASE…..”
Hear that innocence, that pure enthusiasm of youth.
<sobs> “Want-want-want drink from Mickey Mouse mug with-with-STRAW!” <tragic sobbing>
Fortunately he is my flesh and blood or I might lock him in a cupboard.
I learned this from training JD (our dog): Always “program” an “off-switch” into any hyper-active animal you’ve brought home. Otherwise you will pay. Your furniture will pay. Your tv remote will pay.
“I’m going to count to 3. If you are still crying, the radio/tv will be switched off.” (Or Mummy will leave the room. Or we will rent you out to this restaurant to clean dishes to pay for your meal. See, here comes jie-jie to recruit you now – then we tip a waitress to show him the kitchen.)
“One…. Two….” He has enough time to register and decide he doesn’t want the radio/tv switched off. And he’s learning to count. Great.
Sometimes it doesn’t work. “EEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEE”
“One…. Two….”
<pause>
“………EEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEE”
Sigh. We live in an apartment. I shut all the doors and draw the thick “black-out” curtains so no one calls building security to check on the possible wild animal abuse being carried out in our home. I put my little adorable screaming bundle of joy on the bed gingerly, making sure he can’t hurt himself, sit down next to him with my laptop.
Then ignore him.
Some nights when Rockstar was a baby we would be dead sure security was knocking on the door – but it always turned out to just be our ears ringing, even as the baby drew breath to remind us again how we were miserable human beings.
I start up my laptop, log on to the IslandECC website and launch the Sacred Influence an earphone in my left and Rockstar’s “EEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEE” in my right. Cos I feel a little bad at tuning my only child out and think he deserves an ear.
I did carry the maker of that sound in my belly for 8 ½ months. That should count for something, right
“EEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEE”
Forget it, I put the earphone in my right.
“……..why does your husband treat you badly? Because he thinks he can…..”
“EEEEEEEeeeeee”
“If you’ve expressed your hurt to him and he hasn’t changed….. not motivated to change….”
“eeeeEEEEEEEEEE”
“….you can say ‘This can’t go on, you can’t treat me this way’….”
<Silence>
“You can say this in the Lord because you don’t want your daughter to allow her husband to treat her this way, or your son to learn he can treat his wife this way.”
Rockstar is snuggled up to me, head on my shoulder, his eyes closed peacefully.
I glance to the right of my laptop screen for how much time has passed.
Two minutes, 52 seconds.
