ALL.DAY. I spent ALL DAMN DAY trying to get Samuel to eat. I tried EVERYTHING. The happy picnic lunch together. Logic. Threats. Offering rewards. Begging. Pleading. All I got was, "I want to go home," and, "never," and the ever popular, "just shutup and leave me alone, I'm not in a good mood right now."
Daddy, the fun-meister, shows up from having spent time at home doing chores during my Chinese-water-torture-of-an-afternoon, says, "Let's share a grilled cheese sandwich," and the kid is ALL OVER IT. CAN'T EAT FAST ENOUGH. AND IS NOW ON HIS WAY DOWN TO THE CAFETERIA TO GET ANOTHER SANDWICH.
Yes, I'm irked. I'm tired, I'm bored, I'm angry at the universe...and I have apparently lost "the touch" with my son. I have resorted to three crying jags in two different bathrooms and a family living center room in this place. I literally had to walk away from my son for fear I was going to scream at him. I haven't been this wound tight since right after he was born and I was completely lost as to what to do with him.
I guess I haven't grown too much in four years. And here I thought I was doing so well.