When trying to make a point, the landing will do

Dear Jon:

Today, you and I planned to go to the airport to pick up Daddy who was coming back from a work trip to Birmingham. You love going to the airport and watching the planes land and take off, so I knew we would have fun. The problem was that you wanted to leave the house at 9:30, and Daddy’s flight was not scheduled to come in until 12:20. I spent about 15 minutes stalling you and another 15 minutes convincing you that we should do something else first. I finally was able to get you to agree to go to the book store--only because the bookstore has Thomas the Tank table and many trains to play with (you are a particular fan on Molly, the long yellow engine, and her coal car. As a matter of fact, last time we were there, you told all the kids before going to get a snack, “I will be back. No one touch my yellow engine.” ). So we played at the book store for a while, and you did really well (although I could tell from the early morning that your fuse was on the short side today).

Without going into too much detail, let me just say that we never made it to the airport due to Metro problems, but we met Daddy in Old Town and ate lunch. You loved it. You ran around the fountain in front of Stella’s a million times and announced to us that you got your hands wet just as many times.

By the time we got home, it was 2:30, so you were very tired. One thing led to another, and within minutes of getting home, you threw a major fit--because you were tired and frustrated that Daddy and I were not succumbing to your demands for X and Y and Z. Your final frustration was with the fact that although you demanded it, Mommy was not going to carry you upstairs and asked you to come on your own. Don’t get me wrong, dear boy, I have no objections to carrying you upstairs--but I am also trying to teach you to ask nicely and use a big boy voice. You refused, so I could not help you. Daddy and I were waiting for you in your bedroom, listening to you screaming, squealing and crying because you were so mad. Suddenly, you got quiet. We waited a few minutes, and then peaked out the door. You were lying in the landing between two sets of stairs, with your Pooh and your blankie. And you were sleeping.

I don’t know if you were giving up and finally trying to make your way upstairs or if you wanted to get closer to us so we could hear your complaints loud and clear. But whatever was your reason for coming up the stairs, in the midst of it, you fell asleep.

There is a thin line between determination and stubbornness--if there is one at all.

I love you,
Mom