So my son hates me.
When I go to pick him up from preschool, or the social skills class, he screams at the sight of me, “NOOO!” and “Go AWAY, Mom!” and if he’s close enough he will push me. And he’s pretty strong when he’s mad.
He’s picked up some choice words too. Oh yeah. So not my fault, of course. I was under the delusion that since he couldn’t talk, he couldn’t hear. Or pick up on what I was saying. Like the curse words. The f-bombs.
The other day, when he got frustrated at something, he said: “Hell. F*cking Hell.”
I thought I had a few more years before this stage. But here it is.
And then there is the constant needling of his sister, combined with the over-protectiveness: “She’s eating the toys again” and “LOOK at her! Look at her!” and “No, Anjali, that’s MINE!”
All of this combined with her screaming her head off at the slightest touch, makes for a real fun time.
(Where’s that drink…?)