The three-year old is going through a particularly tyrannical stage. It’s a bad one. We are worn out, all of us. I will leave that rant for another day though.
This afternoon, we were late for the kids dance class. We were warm. Tensions were fraught. The three-year old had been directing myself and her brother and sister around the house. I want leggings, I didn’t want that dress, Where is my other hairband, I don’t even like that juice……..You get the idea. It was her fourth costume change so far today. The first one was at 6.10am. As I said tensions were fraught.
So the tantrum kicked off, she was screaming on the floor on top of a pile of clothes, the other two were aware we were late for their dance class and my every last ounce of patience disappeared. I told the three year old we were going and she could stay at home alone ( try and not judge me, I realise this is shit parenting). Her screams got louder but she refused to move. So I walked to the front door calling the other two. It was an empty threat, I was never going to leave her home alone and again yes I know, this is really shit parenting. The seven year went to leave for the car. The five year old stood firm in my path
” I am not going without her”
I thought I had misheard him. I was literally seconds from showing the three year old what a tantrum really looked like and was about to join her in sobbing face down on the floor.
“What did you say?” I asked him not so quietly or calmly.
“I am not going without her” he repeated. All five years of him, standing up to his demonic mother in full melt down mode.
And just like that all was well with the world again. Calmness returned immediately to our warzone-esque home. I brought the three year old to the car. The five year old ran around gathering her shoes and book and blankie and got in beside her. I looked into the rear view mirror and he was holding her hand.
I would love a big brother like him.