Oh Jakey

One of the funniest things I hear a lot is, "Oh, Jakey..." It is usually coming from my friend Cilla or my mom or dad or mother-in-law after I have described yet another one of Jake's "incidents." And this week is apparently an "Oh, Jakey" kind of week.

Before I tell you about this week, though, I must tell you about Jake's newfound "love" of preschool. It goes something like this:

He loves preschool when I pick him up. He's happy. He's always had a good time. He's always perfectly happy to be going home, but is always eager to show me what they've played with or to tell me about the fun things they've done. About an hour after I pick him up, he starts telling me that he doesn't like school and he's not going back. He tells me all about it. Forcefully. And he continues to tell me about how he's not going back all evening. Stubbornly. He tells me when I put him in the bath. Repeatedly. He tells me when I put him in the bed. And, as soon as he wakes up, he tells me again. It doesn't end there. He continues to tell me how he doesn't like it and "will not go" all the way there until I leave him, screaming and crying in the arms of his teacher. Pitifully. And then we hit rewind and start it all over again.

So, yesterday, I spent a good part of my day thinking about how I could get him out of this cycle. Still had no answers yesterday evening, but I thought a lot about it.

When I went to pick him up at school, I was eager to see him and hopeful that he would be happy. Then, maybe I could convince him that it is such a wonderful place to be and that he should be so excited about coming back.

Oh, Jakey.

I asked his teacher how he did. "Well," she said, "he didn't sleep at nap time. It wasn't a big deal. But, he kept taking off his shoe and then complaining because it was off."

I apologized to her and she said it wasn't a big deal. Then, I asked about the rest of the day. "He was good... I did have to get onto him one time because he walked over to his friend who was building a tower with blocks and then he knocked them all over for no reason." Oh... I am so sorry. I was ready to kill him. I had to sign up Jake for a school field trip next week. While I was looking for the form, I ran across the daily report forms. On Jake's, it says, "Refused to help clean up."

Great.

So, not only is he being difficult about coming to school, he is also being difficult AT school.

None of these things shocked me. At all. Jake is... Jake. We all know how he can be. So, I wasn't extremely upset, but I really wanted to make sure that he understood this wasn't acceptable behavior. After a long discussion in the car (and after he accused his teachers of lying - hehe), he seemed to "get it."

Then, we went to the post office. By the time we left there, the entire building of 20+ customers thought I was an abusive parent. I am quite sure that one woman was actually watching me walk to my car, considering calling social services or something. He was horrible. He ran into people, ran into things, knocked over a whole stack of boxes, hit me, and then, when I held his hand (and I did NOT hold it tight), the little jerk screamed that I was hurting him. I seriously wanted to strangle him.

Batman was taken away.

Then, ALL 500 Spidermen dolls were taken.

And, the new Scooby Doo movie he loves so much. Gone.

To beat it all... it doesn't end there!

We get home. We get calmed down, including me who was by this point ready for a heart attack or blood pressure medicine at least. I fix Jake a snack and am working on Bailey's popcorn. I had fixed them a juice and sat it on the counter. Jake asked demanded that I bring him his juice. Being as stubborn and frustrated as I was, I demand that he get up and get it. It's literally like five steps from him. FIVE steps.

He refuses and begins to scream and cry. Yes, over me not bringing him juice. I started to take it to him. But, my stubborness can go a long way. I had had enough of Jake. I was sick of dealing with him. So, I wasn't going to give. Ever. I went on about my business, gave Bailey her popcorn and juice (she walked from the living room - gasp - and carried it herself). Jake continued to cry and scream at me. I went in the front living room and sat down. He came all the way in there to yell at me. We're talking at least 25 steps more than he would have had to taken to get the damn juice.

By this time, he's throwing such a tantrum that I am seriously almost laughing and almost busting a vein in my head simultaneously. I calmly give him the choice of getting his juice or taking a nap. He yells at me in his most angry voice and horrid little scrunched up face, "YOU GET MY JUICE."

Needless to say, I took him to his room, placed him in his bed and closed the door. A few minutes later, he cries out that he'll get his juice. I let him out and walk with him downstairs. Where he again proceeds to  yell at me that I need to get his juice. Oh. My. Gosh. I took his hands, walked with him to the counter, and placed his hands on his cup. He throws the cup down. THROWS IT DOWN. So, I pick him up, carry him to his room, and let him cry himself to sleep.

The end.

Not really. When he woke up, we had a long talk about his actions. Daddy shamed him. A lot. He apologized. Will he change? Don't hold your breath. I could see his little mind working already.

Oh, Jakey... what are we to do with you?

He seriously thinks he is the boss in the house. Poor kid... his perception of the world is about to change drastically. Mommy isn't going to put up with this crap. I don't care how adorable he is and how sweet he can be and how much I love that he's my little baby...  he is NOT going to act like a complete brat. At least not like this.

He is pretty adorable though... :)