Why does the boy only share the bad parts of his day? More important why does he exaggerate those few moments into gigantic balls of flaming drama? He gets so worked up. I have been distressed obsessing over my son’s obsession with his horrible, unfair, unlucky life. I have been toying with the idea of crushing up a few Valium and sprinkling them on his cereal in the morning. Would that be bad?
Seriously I have been concerned about my little sad sack. I talked to my daughter’s school psychologist and she gave me some insight. I told her of Dylan’s issues and she (metaphorically) bitch slapped me right across my chubby stunned face. She told me that I may run the risk of being a Helicopter Mom. When she tactfully brought this to my attention I laughed and thought to myself. Me? A Helicopter mom? She doesn’t know what she is talking about. I am a SWAT team mom! If I could go to school with Dylan each day, I would squeeze into those little desks and help him with everything. If a kid made a snide remark at my boy, I’d glare at them or show them my clenched fist. So I am learning that that’s bad. I guess that I am not supposed to solve all of my son’s problems. I have been loving my son to death.
This week my goal is to let him solve his own problems and not to react to his drama. I’ll add it to my long list of character defects that need mending. I’ll let you know how it goes.
