I adore him - I really do. For the sake of this blog, we'll refer to him as El-D (short for El Diablo). If you knew him, you'd understand that this nickname is HILARIOUS - shout out to my husband who came up with it. El-D has the reddest hair I've ever seen, which is representative of the fire in his soul, and he operates in 3 modes: awesome, awful, and asleep.
El-D requires a lot of patience - a virtue I'm woefully short on. I think that's a big part of the problem. We're a lot alike, and sometimes we just clash. For example - El-D's frustration level tolerance is a negative 5. He goes right from playing happily to "hulking out". I've already noted that I'm an impatient witch, with an equally low frustration tolerance level. The sound of a "hulk out" sends electric sparks up my spine, zapping the crazy parts of my brain. Can you see where this is going?
More than anything I want my sons to have an idyllic childhood. I want them to grow up knowing they are loved and cherished - the stuff we all want. I'm pretty sure that won't happen if El-D's earliest memories are of mommy shrieking at him to stop shrieking. In my defense a huge part of the problem is that El-D doesn't hear the sound of my voice at normal volumes. Often I must shout so he can hear me over the din inside the brain of a very active, imaginative 5 year old boy.
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