I stand corrected.
Crap I forgot what I was going to post about.
This is where I get up and wonder around the house a bit. Kick around a bunch of toys and see that the kids have not killed themselves, each other or are thinking of planting the baby in the empty planter on the back porch. True story. And as I look over and see the kids on their I-touches I remember it.
So after Alex bugged me so much to go to his Aunt's house last night that we showed up on her doorstep unannounced and uninvited I was a little more than pissed when he started with all of this garbage in under five minutes of hitting the door:
"UGGGHHH. I'm bored."
"There's nothing to do here."
"How long do we have to watch those guys on bikes?"
"There's nothing to do."
"UGGGGGHHH. I want to go home."
"How long do we have to be here? Can I watch TV?"
"UGGGGHHH. How long do we have to stay here???"
Yup, after begging like a misbehaved dog for forty minutes straight, he wanted to go home. He wanted to bail on the same place he begged to go to in the first place. Anyone see the irony here? Not to be out done by my spawn I started up with:
"No, we are not leaving."
"You can find something to do."
"Go find your Uncle."
I said, "Go Find Your Uncle."
"No we are not changing the channel. Your Aunt and I are watching the Tour."
I said, "We Are Watching The Tour."
I don't know if you know this either but I'm a road biker so watching the Tour de France is akin to a pedophile asking a kid if they like candy. And I love candy. Right now the Tour is my candy. So, NO, that TV channel was not being flipped. Period.
Once a year in July we have a new house rule: Do Not Mess With the Tour. Oh yeah, screw you Contador. And buff men on bikes? In spandex?? In the hot, hot, hot, summer??? Bliss. Its not like the pool ladies in Spanx, or that crappy chocolate. The Tour is more like soft porn. Go watch and you'll see. It's easy on the eyes. See? See why we watch???
Anyway, while we were getting all glossy-eyed watching beautiful men on bikes my sister may have mentioned something to Alex, something along the lines of, "Hey, do you want to play my Sim's? You can make Aunt Nichole and Uncle Rob do things like go swimming or sleep."
I don't know. Remember? I was watching hot, sweaty men in tights.
Alex didn't stop complaining till he heard four magic words: "It's on the computer." At the time it struck me as odd, something akin to saying in that sickly sweet voice, "Does the dogie want a treat?" And you can actually see the dog stop in mid-motion and go, " Err? Treat?? Did someone say treat??? I wanna treat. Where's the treat?"
Alex was like that dog. He cocked his head off to the side and said, "Computer? Aunt Nichole, did you say computer??"
Fast forward to today where I've been harassed since about half past the ass crack of dawn about the Sim's. Now he has to have a game. Not only a game, but the game he was playing last night. And that is just not possible. We simply cannot take the game off her computer and plop it onto ours.
Add to it, my sister's game is part of the Sim's Ambitions. That means he can make his Sim's Aunt and Uncle get all romantic with each other and have babies. My seven year old is NOT MAKING SIM'S BABIES.
The Sim's can swim naked it the pool, get in fights, flirt and kill each other. Not necessarily in that order. They can rob the neighbor and eat their dog for dinner and call it chicken. He can make them take a cab to diner and get all sexy in the bathroom. Add to it, the Sim's do things they want to as well.
So no, he's not getting my sister's Sim's game.
Nor is he getting a Sim's game of his own. I'm not caving and just giving him a $39.99 game right now since that's his new thing. And I'm not spending $6.99 as an App for the I-pad either. It's not about the money here. He's going to have to work with me on this one and:
- Leave me alone for a little bit about it.
- Show me he can not talk about it for a period of time.
- Show me he can earn it.
- Respect my decision.
- And this is a big one here: try to work with me and think of other things and other ways to get unstuck.
And I get it. Really, I do. For him the pain is very real. He has to have it. He's stuck on it. Fixated. He can't get it out of his head and can find no alternate solutions even when they are presented. They can not work in his mind. He's been in meltdown mode and will continue to be all day and well into the night.
This is truly an issue for us. Something he needs help understanding and processing. I have to be able to help him get it, to understand, to become more flexible in his thinking. Try to help him work through this and gain an understanding of just why we can't always get what we want, when we want it, regardless of the situation.
Which is precisely why I'm holding firm and making him wait for the Sim's. Heck, he may not even get it.
I do him no favors by giving him everything he wants. When he wants it. Just because he wants it.
Trust me. It's killing me as well.
And guess what? After a day of making our lives miserable, he woke up this morning and has not mentioned a peep about the Sim's. Not a word. He may have moved onto something new. I don't know, he may just be plotting his next move.