Gonna Run it Out of Him
Andrew has recently begun to act more aggravating than I am capable of sanely dealing with. Alexa will be playing quietly (really) and some random, testosterone driven compulsion will over take him, and he'll run in and scream "BOOOOO" at her, until she's screaming like a banshee and then he'll walk away as though nothing just happened. Alexa will jump up and run in to tattle on him, "ANDREW SCARED ME!!!" (thanks- I couldn't tell- by the abrupt and violent end to our peaceful moment).
Or yesterday evening I was bending over planting some plants and he sneaks up behind me, and smacks me on the rear. (I have perhaps confessed before, we're a bottom smacking family, the trouble is- Andrew is starting to smack hard. It really hurts. Smacks that hurt, are just simply unacceptable. Smacks for fun . . . totally cool.)
This morning Doug was sitting on the couch eating his cereal. Andrew ran to the couch, just before Doug sat down, knocked the remotes across the room in his hurry to beat Doug and then laid just in the way. Then instead of moving to the other end of the couch, laid smack dab in the middle, rolling around just barely touching Doug, but close enough to jostle him, or knock into him and spill cereal.
The other day on the way home from school he was doing the old, "I'm not touching you" trick to Alexa. His finger was close, but not quite touching her- just close enough to turn her into a raging psycho. By the time we got home, I was more aggravated than I'd been after spending all day with 13 special needs teenagers with their own weird hormonal issues. I didn't even let Andrew get his book bag out of the car. I made him run up and down the street, 2 times, before he could come inside.
The point of running is not punishment. Andrew likes to run. Running is not punishment to him. The point is to run some of the extra energy out. Back in the old days when I ran, I ran so that I could work through stress in a physical way. Maybe running will work through some of his need to aggravate us. Or just give me a few minutes break from him. After rolling around on the couch and aggravating the heck out of his father, I made Andrew go run up and down the street twice (it's only a tenth of a mile to the end of the street, so it's not torture or too far I can't see him). He came back a completely, calm, tolerable human being again. Testosterone is a real pain in the ass- as I know when he smacked me yesterday!
Or yesterday evening I was bending over planting some plants and he sneaks up behind me, and smacks me on the rear. (I have perhaps confessed before, we're a bottom smacking family, the trouble is- Andrew is starting to smack hard. It really hurts. Smacks that hurt, are just simply unacceptable. Smacks for fun . . . totally cool.)
This morning Doug was sitting on the couch eating his cereal. Andrew ran to the couch, just before Doug sat down, knocked the remotes across the room in his hurry to beat Doug and then laid just in the way. Then instead of moving to the other end of the couch, laid smack dab in the middle, rolling around just barely touching Doug, but close enough to jostle him, or knock into him and spill cereal.
The other day on the way home from school he was doing the old, "I'm not touching you" trick to Alexa. His finger was close, but not quite touching her- just close enough to turn her into a raging psycho. By the time we got home, I was more aggravated than I'd been after spending all day with 13 special needs teenagers with their own weird hormonal issues. I didn't even let Andrew get his book bag out of the car. I made him run up and down the street, 2 times, before he could come inside.
The point of running is not punishment. Andrew likes to run. Running is not punishment to him. The point is to run some of the extra energy out. Back in the old days when I ran, I ran so that I could work through stress in a physical way. Maybe running will work through some of his need to aggravate us. Or just give me a few minutes break from him. After rolling around on the couch and aggravating the heck out of his father, I made Andrew go run up and down the street twice (it's only a tenth of a mile to the end of the street, so it's not torture or too far I can't see him). He came back a completely, calm, tolerable human being again. Testosterone is a real pain in the ass- as I know when he smacked me yesterday!
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