The Author

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I am a high school English teacher, and mother of two charming little ones of my own. I teach in a high poverty urban charter school, while I live in a typical American suburb that has frequently been rated one of the safest cities in the country. It is a paradox I struggle with constantly, but it is my life.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Three going on Thirteen?

Seriously, I get my three-year-old a big boy bed and suddenly he is acting like a teenager. As soon as he got home yesterday, he went straight to his room. He stayed in his room almost the whole time. He wants to read books and blast his stereo. I can't exactly complain. What am I supposed to stay- "Stop reading those books and go watch some tv?" Yeah, not gonna happen. We asked him to come out for dinner...

"I'm not hungry."

We made him come to the dinner table anyway, but he stayed for about 5 minutes, ate three bites and came up with some excuse for needing to go back in his room. He pretty much never came out. Okay, not true- he came out to take a bath. Then, Marc went to read him a story, and he wanted none of that. He just wanted to go straight to sleep. Marc tried to give him his bear (his security blanket and favorite thing in the whole world up until about 2 weeks ago) and Vinny refused to take it. He wanted it put back in the drawer where he had organized all of his blankets. Oh boy.

I also discovered yesterday that my prior method for waking Vinny up in the morning, which was scooping him out of bed and plopping him in front of the tv on the couch, no longer works. Now, I can't get him out of bed. I'm pregnant and having difficulty enough maneuvering the ladder without trying to carry him too. I can barely carry him as it is anymore- I certainly can't carry him down a ladder.

So, this morning, I just walked in and turned on the light and started saying, "Good morning Vinny," and just talking to him in general while I finished getting ready in my room. Then I hear a loud bark, "Stop talking! I'm awake!" Geez... Where'd this attitude come from? I wait a couple of minutes and he is still not showing signs of actually getting up so I start singing to him, which is met with an even louder, "STOP!!!" So I picked up the dog and put the dog on his bed and decided I would let Woody have the fun task of waking the little monster.

A few minutes later, my bright-eyed little man descended the ladder, leaving a panicked and trapped looking dog on his bed, which I then had to remove. "Do you want to go watch tv?" I ask. "No, I want to get dressed," he replies. What? Seriously? What happened to my sweet little preschooler? Who is this tiny teenager that seems to have taken his place? I have enough teenagers at school; I don't need one at home. At least not yet.

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