It's always my fault...
Tonight, he decided that since I was using words he didn't understand (I guess "Leave the dog alone" were a bit difficult on a Friday) he didn't like me anymore. He began the usual argument that always starts with "I hate you!" and "You're the meanest mom!" That got him sent to his room.
Uh-oh, think he'll notice that the cats knocked a box of stuff off his dresser? Yep, he did. Oh wait, wasn't the cats. I did it... so he screamed. I went in his room, and threw the box, and threw his toys all around. When I asked him what makes him think that I did it, the answer was just a high pitched scream. Gotta love a kid with lungs. That prompted the door being closed, and the dinner invitation being delayed.
Meanwhile, the girls are sitting at the table making their comments on my parenting skills... just what I need, a couple of snotty teens pointing out my errors in how I raise the banshee in the bedroom.
Do you think that I could get some support from my usual pillar? Nope. His comment? "So, I thought you only had 2 emotional girls." Not helping, thanks. Finally after about 20 mins, the screaming, crying and yelling stopped. We were then graced with his presence at the table. He was not speaking to me. Fine by me. Keeps me from saying something that might not be good.
After dinner, we had a discussion, I of course explained why he needed to not act that way, and that it wasn't me that messed up his room... Oh yeah... now he remembers. When he was looking for his hotwheel cars, he dumped some of his toys. Oh, and when his cousins were over, they didn't clean up all the mess.
A game of pool or two with Doug helped him get in a better mood, and I was allowed to read him a story before bed. Guess I'm back in his good graces. We'll see how long it last.
Wonder who's next on the list to beat me up? Only time will tell....