This was Mark's last week of school, and it was a veritable junk food fest at school. Monday was root beer float day during c lass, followed by cupcakes in after school care. Tuesday was cake day. Wednesday was another cupcake day, and yesterday was Slurpees at lunch followed by more cake in the afternoon.
Needless to say, Mark's blood sugars have been all over the place, and he's had a fairly constant sugar buzz going since Monday.
Today, however, was the crash.
Today is the first day of summer vacation, and so far, it's been a dreary one. It's cold and gray outside, and as of 11:30 a.m., there have been no parties or celebrations yet. Mark is not a happy camper.
Instead, he has the excruciating task of spending the day at home while I work. (Summer camp starts Monday.) He is less than thrilled by this.
At first he was happy. He jumped out of bed at 7 a.m. and rushed to the T.V. (He recently discovered that getting up before me allows him some prime cartoon-watching opportunities.) After breakfast, he decided to check on his Webkins, and started up my lap top. He was again very happy, but his mood switched when the computer shut down due to a low battery.
And....cut to the world's unhappiest child.
"I'm SOOOOOOOO bored!" he sighed, since all entertainment had stopped exactly three minutes earlier. "There's nothing to do..."
"Find something," I told him. "I'll make lunch in 20 minutes, but find something to do until then."
He sighed again, then said in his snottiest voice, "Let me guess -- nothing with screens, right?"
"No screens," I agreed, and was met with another, "There's nothing to do."
I nipped that in the bud -- my son has a flair for the dramatic, and he could repeat that one phrase for the rest of the day. Instead, I sent him outside to water the plants, knowing full well how that would turn out.
I heard it almost immediately -- the hose splashing water against the windows instead of the plants. (Drought? What drought?) I also knew that in a few short moments my son would enter the h ouse sopping wet, after converting the front porch into a small lake. He walked in the front door like a zombie, arms raised from his sides, and told me he needed to change shirts.
All that took exactly 10 minutes -- only five more hours to fill!
I offered him lunch, but he declined. Until five minutes later, when he was suddenly ravenous and about to keel over from starvation.
"Test your blood sugar and I'll feed you," I said but he howled, "NOOOOO! I don't want to test, I just want a snack!"
"GO TEST!" I warned. "You'd better be really high or really low!" From his crabby behavior, I expected to see either 400 or 50. Instead, he was 159 -- right on target. He was just being grumpy all on his own.
Silently, I went back to work. No point trying to reason with Mr. Grumpy Pants in this mood.
Soon enough, I heard him rattling around in the kitchen, and calling out, "Don't we have any other bread?" He found a loaf in the freezer and started making his own lunch.
"Whatcha making?" I asked.
"Peanut butter and butter," he answered, trying to annoy me. I stifled my gag reflex and returned to the office.
And now we have the whole afternoon before us. Mark has finished his lunch, including some hot Cheetos. It was only half a bag, but enough to bring back his junk food buzz, and he's once again a happy little kid. (Paging Dr. Jekyll! Paging Mr. Hyde! Pick up your tickets, the Mood Swing Express is about to leave the station!)
Needless to say, Mark's blood sugars have been all over the place, and he's had a fairly constant sugar buzz going since Monday.
Today, however, was the crash.
Today is the first day of summer vacation, and so far, it's been a dreary one. It's cold and gray outside, and as of 11:30 a.m., there have been no parties or celebrations yet. Mark is not a happy camper.
Instead, he has the excruciating task of spending the day at home while I work. (Summer camp starts Monday.) He is less than thrilled by this.
At first he was happy. He jumped out of bed at 7 a.m. and rushed to the T.V. (He recently discovered that getting up before me allows him some prime cartoon-watching opportunities.) After breakfast, he decided to check on his Webkins, and started up my lap top. He was again very happy, but his mood switched when the computer shut down due to a low battery.
And....cut to the world's unhappiest child.
"I'm SOOOOOOOO bored!" he sighed, since all entertainment had stopped exactly three minutes earlier. "There's nothing to do..."
"Find something," I told him. "I'll make lunch in 20 minutes, but find something to do until then."
He sighed again, then said in his snottiest voice, "Let me guess -- nothing with screens, right?"
"No screens," I agreed, and was met with another, "There's nothing to do."
I nipped that in the bud -- my son has a flair for the dramatic, and he could repeat that one phrase for the rest of the day. Instead, I sent him outside to water the plants, knowing full well how that would turn out.
I heard it almost immediately -- the hose splashing water against the windows instead of the plants. (Drought? What drought?) I also knew that in a few short moments my son would enter the h ouse sopping wet, after converting the front porch into a small lake. He walked in the front door like a zombie, arms raised from his sides, and told me he needed to change shirts.
All that took exactly 10 minutes -- only five more hours to fill!
I offered him lunch, but he declined. Until five minutes later, when he was suddenly ravenous and about to keel over from starvation.
"Test your blood sugar and I'll feed you," I said but he howled, "NOOOOO! I don't want to test, I just want a snack!"
"GO TEST!" I warned. "You'd better be really high or really low!" From his crabby behavior, I expected to see either 400 or 50. Instead, he was 159 -- right on target. He was just being grumpy all on his own.
Silently, I went back to work. No point trying to reason with Mr. Grumpy Pants in this mood.
Soon enough, I heard him rattling around in the kitchen, and calling out, "Don't we have any other bread?" He found a loaf in the freezer and started making his own lunch.
"Whatcha making?" I asked.
"Peanut butter and butter," he answered, trying to annoy me. I stifled my gag reflex and returned to the office.
And now we have the whole afternoon before us. Mark has finished his lunch, including some hot Cheetos. It was only half a bag, but enough to bring back his junk food buzz, and he's once again a happy little kid. (Paging Dr. Jekyll! Paging Mr. Hyde! Pick up your tickets, the Mood Swing Express is about to leave the station!)
Hot Cheetos hands -- messier than jazz hands!We're off at lunch to buy a new Boy Scout uniform (he's becoming a Webelo, for those of you who speak Boy Scout), and I'm pretty sure that won't go well either. I am fully anticipating a meltdown at the store when I ask him to try on the new uniform without the reward of a root beer float, cake or cupcake.
Sigh. Life is indeed tough for my poor, bored kid who never has any fun at all.
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