|Cole in a calmer moment|
Is it really that difficult to be the middle child?
He began the screaming uncontrollably in the living room for possibly stubbing his toe or maybe because he didn’t want to go to school.
We tried explaining we couldn’t help him if he didn’t tell us what was wrong.
More screaming, slobbering, snot-flying, body thrashing.
A list of the approaches we tried: oh poor sweetie-pie, what’s wrong?, tough love, ignore the noise approach, and get his boots on regardless of him fighting it.
None of them worked.
Eventually Nick carried him to the minivan and strapped him into his seat with no coat, no glasses, and one Spiderman boot.
I had the joy of driving on I-95 while he screamed, which eventually petered out halfway to school. He started up again at school until his teacher came out, gathered him up and brought him inside. Crying abated.
And then I drive away wracked with Mom Guilt.
Is this just normal three-year-old craziness or is he starved for more attention?