I mentioned in yesterday's post that some minor ceiling damage that happened on Tuesday. Here's the story. I've been going to the old-time music jam most Tuesdays, and I sometimes leave Mr W home for the hour or so, and sometimes I bring him with me. I took him with me this last time. We didn't get home really late, but he had enough time to have a bowl of cereal and then it was time for bed.
Except, he wanted to play more on his computer. See, it was my fault that the internet connection (hello? entitlement?) wasn't very good at the place the jam was at, so he deserved more time. In all seriousness, I do understand that he felt like he didn't get what I had promised, which was to get to do his thing while I did my thing.
Anyway, when I told him he couldn't play on the computer anymore, he got upset. He went to his room and was bumping about, and ended up in his bed (which is a loft bed) and was hitting the ceiling with his feet. Oops, too hard on that one, and he put a dent in the ceiling with his heel. When he started bumping around, I thought to myself, "well, if he busts something, it will be a good learning experience." I guess I felt this way because he was around his stuff (not my stuff!).
And as I would have predicted with my kid, he felt awful about it immediately. He was pretty hard on himself, and we got a chance to talk about what to do when you have those feelings, that everyone has those feelings, and it's what you do with it the matters, etc. In the midst of this, he was saying how much his step-brother picks on him, and how much he doesn't like the kid. I realize I only get one side of the story, and I have to remind myself of that often. But still, it's a stressor in his life that wasn't there before and that he didn't ask for. I'm trying to help him develop thicker skin, but it's a process.
I told him we'd patch the dent this weekend. Hello, puberty...