After spending the weekend with him I often feel as if I've just gotten off a 90-mile-an-hour treadmill without stopping to breathe for 2 straight days.
From the minute he wakes up in the morning until the very last second he can stall going to bed, he wants to be chased, play "puppy" (he climbs up and licks our faces - trust me it's just as gross as it sounds), "make" stuff, which always ends up way more complicated than the usual arts and crafts. I'm talking stages and space ships here, perpetual games of hide & seek where no one's allowed to find him (even though he always picks the same hiding place every. single. time).
You get the idea. The kid's playful but well, tiring. Like my mother-in-law often states after taking care of him for the day, "He never stops."
So, knowing this, realizing just how easily stimulated and animated he becomes, not to mention how exhausting it is just being in his presence sometimes, you would think she'd know better than to pull the crap she did the other day.
Let me backtrack, for just a moment.
Since we began this long and gruesome home renovating project, Ciaran has been staying at my in-laws a couple of nights a week, on the days they would normally come to our house to babysit when he's not in school.
Now, before you get all "Stop complaining, bitch - I wish someone would come take my kids off my hands 2 nights a week!" Yes, I know we're lucky. The in-laws have helped us out enormously and I'm very grateful to have them around.
However.
A few nights ago, MIL drops Ciaran off and right from the get-go the boy is more hyped-up than usual. He's literally bouncing off the walls - climbing the furniture and giggling hysterically one minute, then screaming and crying the next. You know, the whole Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde show. He refuses to eat his dinner and demands I give him ice cream for dessert. Needless to say that's not happening. He has a tantrum and gets a time out.
I notice a bit of chocolate smeared on his chin and figure his Nonina must have given him a couple of treats, obviously contributing to his overly-activeness.
After a long, extremely frustrating evening of this kind of behavior, I'm exhausted and the hubs and I are at our wits end. As I finally get the boy into his pajamas and settled into bed, I grab his overnight bag for his favorite blankie and stuffed bedtime toys and this is what I find, shoved in amongst his things:
Yep. Nothing like chocolate and caffeine to get a kid all riled up. And also needless to say? I confiscated the half-eaten bar and enjoyed every last morsel. 'Cause I deserved it, dammit!
