Bad Behavior

My husband G. Grod and I were at our wits end last weekend with Drake’s behavior. He threw extravagant tantrums (e.g., a twenty minute one on the front lawn of church), he did WWF-style body slams on baby Guppy, he hit and kicked us repeatedly, and he laughed when we punished him by taking away his cars or giving him a time out. Things were so out of hand that I even checked out parenting books from the library, something I have avoided almost entirely until now.

Then on Tuesday, I picked him up from pre-school, and the teacher and his friend’s mother said he’d complained that his ear hurt. I’d been asking for days if it did; he always said no. So I made an appointment for him and found that the ear he wasn’t complaining about was infected, and the one he WAS complaining about was not only infected, but had a blister on his eardrum. I didn’t know whether to be happy that he told SOMEBODY, even if it wasn’t me, or aggravated with the proof against the parental platitude of “oh, when they’re older it’s easier because they can tell you what’s wrong.” But I was definitely relieved that there was an explanation for the downturn in behavior. After a few days of antibiotics, though, I’m still wishing for a more dramatic upswing.

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