Hoping for a better day

So yesterday was kind of a tough day for Master J. Well, realistically so was Sunday so maybe I should start there. Sunday morning was fine. We all got up pleasantly, made it to church nicely and then headed home. I had mentioned to Mister C that I planned to make pancakes when we got home but right after we got into the car he asked "Who wants to stop at Sunrize and get donuts?" Of course Master J was all over that offer. I kind of looked at Mister C and shook my head, but the damage was done. We were going to get donuts. So we did. And they were good. And all was right with the world. But (and there's always one of those), donuts are not health food and they contain no protein. Protein is good for little boys who periodically spaz out. Two donuts later, Master J seems to be doing okay, but you can tell he is starting on a path. A path of destruction that will not end for 24 hours. A few hours after the donuts, I tried to get Master J to eat something. I knew I needed to go to the grocery store and that he should eat before I went. He refused. This is typical for him after he has consumed massive amounts of carbs and no protein at a meal. So I left for the store. I shopped in peace. I enjoyed my time. And then I went home. As I was pulling in the driveway I could see Mister C and Master J in the driveway. The former was attempting to start the lawn mower and the latter was getting on his bike. Mister C told Master J to tell me what he had done. Great. I'm not even in the garage, the car is still in gear and I get to hear what's happened. Seems he saw a plant hook in the ceiling of his playroom (left by the previous owner) that he thought of a new use for. So he devised a way to get it down. He dragged his keyboard into the playroom and then removed the cord from it. Then, standing on the couch, he used the cord to throw repeatedly towards the hook until he was able to catch it. And using all of his 50 some pounds of boyhood, he hung on it until the hook came out of the ceiling, bringing with it some chunks of plaster. Because he had not caused enough damage at that point, he then screwed that hook into the wall, for what purpose I do not know. Additionally, there was some talk about taking some of the really large hooks (the kind used to hanging bicycles and such) from the garage and hiding them in his room. Mister C claims to have heard NOTHING during all of this. Apparently our child is really a very short Ninja who has decided to infiltrate our family structure. For the record, I was gone all of one hour.

Moving on. We made it through the rest of the day with only a few minor scuffles and no further structural damage. Then comes Monday. I love Monday. It's the day my son goes back to school and if I'm lucky enough that my husband goes to work I have a few hours of peace to myself. I love peace. I didn't have any though. First of all, Mister C decided that he would "work from home". What this really means is "Do what I want, which consists of losing money in the stock market and eating and occasionally taking a work phone call, which I will complain bitterly about after I hang up." Anyway, he did make several forays out in to the world. The first trip was to the chiropractor. While he was gone I got my first phone call from the school. The principal put Master J on the phone and he explained that he had pulled on another child's sleeve and also that he had hit another child in the leg. Then the principal gets on and tells me that in fact Master J "slapped another child in the face." My absolute disbelief of this made her restate that perhaps he had in fact "hit him in the head, or possibly bumped him on the arm, I'm not really sure" Ummmm, if you're not really sure, do me a favor and don't accuse him of something that frankly, would probably be the last thing he would ever do. WTF kind of administrator makes shit up to make a child look worse? Oh that's right, he needs to be in special ed. If you can't get him in via academic failure, let's try and get him in on aggression (which even she admitted he has never shown any sign of). So anyway, Mister C comes home after his appointment and then goes out to lunch with a friend. While he's gone I get the second call from the school. Now Master J has bumped in to two children and they almost fell down. Almost. And that warranted calling me. Evidently we're trying really hard to document all his behavior so we can send him where he belongs. By the time I picked him up he had been sent to the safe seat nine times and visited the principals office four times. We started working on homework when we got home, doing 15 minutes at a time and alternating with doing chores. Which is when I found the rest of the damage from Sunday. I was in his playroom giving directions from the couch when he started complaining that he couldn't get his bin into the closet. I went to help him and that's when I found two large hooks (the bicycle hanging kind), a two foot 2x4, a very large screwdriver and a latch. Hmmm. And what were our plans with this little stash? Well, Master J was planning on screwing one of the big hooks into the wall next to the door and one into the door itself (shriek!)and then using the board to put across the two hooks to give him a locking door. Just like Pooh has. Huh? The big screwdriver had been used to remove the latch from the closet door. He never did say what he was doing there. When asked, he admitted that he had brought all of it up the previous day while I was shopping. I got everything put back where it goes and put the latch back on the door. I still can't figure out how the little Ninja could have made at least three trips past his father's office into the garage to get his supplies, another three trips past his father's office while carrying the stash upstairs to his playroom & bedroom, moved his keyboard into the playroom, removed the hook from the ceiling and screwed it into the wall and removed the latch from his closet door all without making a sound and doing it within the "just two minutes" time frame Mister C is claiming was the amount of time he wasn't physically watching him.