I just gotta vent.

So today I had a rude awakening. My son, the apple of my eye, my darling, my best boy ever, etc., is a complete BRAT. I know I say this often, but today, right at this very instant, and for the last, oh, six hours, I mean it. I am shocked and amazed. And yeah, for those of you that read this, it's obvious I have a soft spot for Cole...maybe more than obvious. I think it's mainly because he's a constant in my day-to-day, and he's always thinking I'm wonderful. I don't know about you, but being put on that pedestal has kind of grown on me, so on days like this, when I just want to sell him to the highest bidder, it always comes as a surprise. Wednesdays are our playdate days. Riley has a friend, Olivia, and she has a little brother, Henry, a year older than Cole. Today being Wednesday, they came over, as it's my turn to have them for a few hours. Things were going fairly well, I had a massive headache, so that tells you that it wasn't all smiles and laughter as they ran screaming through the house, and destroyed my clean living room. This is the price you pay for your children to have friends. Is it worth it? I'm still trying to decide.
Anyway, Riley is great with her friends. They have a snack, play with all the Littlest Pet Shop toys, or Polly Pockets, or with Olivia they like to re-create scenes from the Spiderwick Chronicles Books they read. This is fine. This is encouraged, because not only are they adorable as they do their pixie spins and make their forts, and cuddle their pets, but they are even tempered, and nice to each other, and giggle, and occasionally, if I'm lucky, I hear about Riley and Olivia's boyfriends and how cute they are, and how they were chased by them at recess. I like those stories. Cole, on the other completely opposite hand, is loud. He is bossy. He is a tattletail and sometimes says mean things that I call him on, and then he says, "Mom, I was just making a joke...." Like I'm the biggest prude on the planet. But I have standards...I can be mean to whoever I like. My children, cannot. Especially to other kids. Especially to friends they have invited over.
Cole has taken to the phrase: "Don't tell me...." He uses it often. Some examples are: "Don't tell me you want me to pick up all those toys", or "Don't tell me I have to walk while you look at groceries", or my personal favorite, "Don't tell me you're fixing that for dinner." So today I heard a couple of the "Don't Tell Me's", and Henry, Cole's friend, saying, "I'm going to tell you that, I am." Cole would let out a frustrated, "Uhhhhh!" after Henry would say that, as if shocked at the audacity of his friend's cheek. Anyway, that was all fun and games until he started on the "It was only a joke...." He would tell Henry to do something, completely bossy. Then if Henry was playing with his own toy, Cole would say something like, okay, since you're not listening, you can't come over next play day. I would step in and tell Cole that that isn't how we talk to our friends, and if we can't play with each other, Cole, and only Cole, would have to go to his room. Cole looks up at me, and also looks a little surprised that I'd been eavesdropping, and says, "Mmmooommm, you know, it was just a joke". I told him it wasn't funny, and then he gets all teary-eyed and said that it's not nice when I don't laugh at his jokes. I told him that we don't laugh when the jokes are mean, and continued into the kitchen and started on cleaning my disgusting fridge. Just so I could intervene, should the need arise. About an hour went by and my headache was worse, so I went and laid on my bed. I dozed off and the next thing I heard is Cole's pirate sword being thrown around. I know this because it makes an annoying electronic clanging noise when it hits something. I then hear Cole shout, "You hit my finger! You aren't supposed to hit!" I stayed in my bed, waking up, and afraid of what was going on. Riley came upstairs yelling that Cole needed me, and he'd locked himself in the downstairs bathroom, crying. I had her go tell Cole that he could come up and talk to me. (Because I am a lazy woman, and I just couldn't get my butt moving). He was screaming like he'd lost a limb the entire way through the kitchen and up the stairs, and then he gets to my room and yells "MOM! HENRY HIT ME ON MY FINGER WITH MY PIRATE SWORD, AND HE DIDN'T EVEN SAY SORRY....WWAAAAAHHH!" I looked at his finger, noticed a tiny, red blotch and proceeded to tell him that that's why I don't allow people to swing things around in my house, someone always gets hurt. He told me he's not ever having friends again, and I shushed him, because he was talking way too loud and totally overreacting. He sniffled, and had to go get a dry washcloth from my bathroom, to "wipe his tears", before heading back into the fray. As soon as he got downstairs, it sounded like there was never a problem in the first place as he went back to playing. I sat in bed a little longer just wondering what the odds are that my son has bi-polar disorder.
When their friends left, Cole came up to me and told me how excited he was for Henry to come over again. It's looking like the odds are pretty good.