For the love of god, no more screaming

Ryan’s latest thing is screaming. He’s very quick to scream his displeasure or frustration. And the screams aren’t just screams. They’re ear-piercing, blood-curdling, glass-breaking screams. I’m surprised Leah doesn’t run for cover when he lets loose with one of those screams. I suppose she’s probably half-deaf to those shrill screams by now, so it doesn’t affect her as much.

Dealing with Ryan’s screaming takes the patience of a saint. And there have been a few days when I just don’t have that kind of patience. I can’t run off to one of any Outer Banks vacation rentals, and I can’t beat him to within an inch of his life. So I send him to his room. I swear there have been a few days now where he’s been in his room more than he’s been out of it. Not that that’s a bad thing… his room is full of toys, after all. As is Alyssa’s. But they both have it in their heads that being sent to their rooms (to play! *gasp*) is the most horrible thing ever, and that being my constant shadow all day long is the way to go. Ugh… for real? What is wrong with my kids that they have this mindset? When I was a kid I LOVED being in my room, away from the world, free to do my own thing. But not my two. Go figure. But I don’t relent. Like I’ve told Alyssa, a bedroom is more than a place to sleep. If she refuses to accept that, and learn to play IN her room, then I’ll remove every single toy from it and stick our computer desks in their place. We’ll leave her a bed to sleep on, of course, but nothing else.

I feel bad for Ryan’s regular preschool teacher. She’s been a saint to put up with him all these weeks. I know she’s eagerly awaiting the services of a mobile therapist, who should be starting at the school with Ryan by next Wednesday!

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