Speaking at their level

Argh!

GAH!

EEAAARRRRRGGGHHHHH!

I may have mentioned it before, but sometimes children are exteremly annoying and trying, and, quite frankly, do my fucking head in.

This time – like most times – Monkey Boy was at it. Domineering his younger brother and demanding he do stuff. The stuff that is my job to tell him to do, not his.

Putting his baby brother in his cot so he “couldn’t play with my trains” and annoy him and making him cry a lot and making me get all yelly and stabby and annoyed.

And, finally, when he decided he would go an “help” by playing with said baby brother instead of doing the job I had just asked him to do something in the vacinity of a bazillion times, I got angry.

I did my best to keep calm and try to speak at his level as all the books and experts suggest you do.

I really did.

“STOP BEING AN ARSEHEAD!” I demanded of him.

Then asked him why he was being one.

Hmm. Perhaps “arsehead” was not quite the word to use. And then I considered it.

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