The last few days, my kid has waged an epic battle against the junk cluttering up his room. He’s a bit of a packrat and his room is ridiculously small, so when it reaches Critical Mass–AKA there’s only a footpath from the door to the bed–it’s time to sift through the debris. Model airplanes, Legos, a mylar space blanket from the Austin 3M half marathon, origami dinosaurs, and random socks littered the (tiny) landscape. Each day, he’s tackled one quadrant of the room, and it’s been slow-going–primarily because he finds a book and starts reading it, finds an old toy and starts playing with it, finds Legos and starts assembling them. He’s had to decline a couple of invitations from his friends because he’s still. not. done.
This morning he spent more time arguing with me about the day’s task than it would have taken to accomplish said task. Which was a huge bummer because I wanted to go out to Brushy Creek Park and run the loop from the YMCA to the sports park. It rained all day yesterday and was still overcast and (relatively) cool this morning. But by 10am he was still sulking and griping. I tried to convince him to run with me; he hid under his covers. I finally decided to run the neighborhood loop while it was still overcast, and of course then he appeared in his running clothes. He continued to decline the trip to Brushy Creek, saying “I’m just going to go by myself so you don’t have to listen to me complaining.” And he took off.
I wanted to run today (before the soreness from last night’s core class kicks in!), but he didn’t. Yet he’s the one who got to go. Because guess what? Now the sun is out. My only option had been the shade of Brushy Creek Park, but he’s already run a couple of miles around the neighborhood, and the park is too far for me to leave him home alone. So now I’m stuck with nothing. Zip zero zilch.
He’s only 10. Why do I feel like I’m dealing with a teenager? Ugh.
Epilogue: I ended up doing the three-mile neighborhood loop at about 11 am, when it was 80* and 84% humidity. I left B at home to
sulk think about his behavior. When I got back, he was waiting with an apology and a hug. Whew–fasten your seatbelts folks. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.