Max is off to day camp every day this week from 9am-4pm. I'm happy to have the break. Davan is happy to have the break. Max is happy to be at camp, but unpleasant at home. More than usual.
Yesterday I went to pick him up and he tried to climb onto the tandem even though I wasn't holding on to it. Even after I told him we weren't ready for that yet, he tried still until I pulled him back. Great start to the afternoon/evening.
He then greeted me with complaints about not having a snack. He did have snacks. He'd decided not to bring the food he had left home, which left him out in the cold when everyone else broke out snacks while waiting to be picked up. We went to look for the food, but, apparently, he'd left it in the boys locker room, where I couldn't go and he couldn't find it. He did, though, throw rocks at a post and into the grass at the pool while we were looking around and had to undo that, causing lots of stomping, huffing and defiance.
We got back home later than I'd told Davan we'd be back, causing her to worry. I sent Max outside with his soccer ball to burn off the antsy feeling he had from working so hard to be good all day while I played a game with Davan.
When I told Max he could come in, he kicked the ball over the fence and then came in. My MIL was over for dinner. Max came in and bellowed from the entry way, "The ball went over the fence!!!" then whispered, "Can I go get it?"
I ignored this, as he's supposed to come to where I am to talk to me, causing MIL to say, "Didn't you hear him?" I explained that I was waiting for Max to come to me rather than bellow and she rolled her eyes at me. Rolled her freaking eyes. Yeah. Like I need censure, too.
I said to Max, "If you want to talk to me, I'm in the kitchen and if you're going right back out, you can leave your shoes on."
He came in after a bit, no shoes, to ask if he could go get the ball. I told him, "Sure!"
When he came back in and meandered into the kitchen, I gave him a big hug before reminding him to unpack his bag from camp. He partially did it. Then yelled at me for insisting he do the rest. Then didn't do it. Then yelled some more. Then screamed, causing him to be put outside. He fought me. Even though he can come right back in if he's done being loud.
He came back in and still didn't take care of the rest of the bag, getting all out of sorts and huffy when, again, told to do it rather than answering a question he'd come up with. And on and on.
I went grocery shopping with Davan after dinner. She was anxious to get away, as well because he was "invading her personal space even though she asked him not to."
This morning's highlights include banging on the wall to wake Davan, lot so fun passive agressive behavior, yelled, defiance and, to top things off, hitting me. Yeah. We seem to be going way backward on the whole hitting thing.