battle lost

Did anyone notice the unexpected storm clouds over this particular region today? Museum goers were hit with a brief burst of turbulence downstairs followed by a full-on squall minutes later just outside the Wonder Cabinet. The tired looking, at-her-wits-end blond sitting on the floor, trying not to openly weep? Hi. That was me. *waves*

It was supposed to be a morning of fun, exploration, and connection. I'm trying to understand how that got translated into a morning of fun, exploration, and connection interspersed with freak-outs, aggression, and complete losing-of-our-shit. I have a laundry list of excuses, but they are a tired, tired bunch. I don't know what I am doing wrong.

I know he doesn't handle rapid transitions / unexpected surprises well.
I know he isn't totally in tune with where he is on the scale of hunger / sleep / stimulation.
I know he needs plenty of warning / time to finish up his project / thoughts / investigation before moving on to the next.
I know he doesn't give a tinker's damn about anyone else.
I know he needs to feel like he is in charge.

And I know I didn't bubble wrap each and every step and cover all the corners so that our "adventure" had no chances of failure. But, come on! Is that really what I'm supposed to do? How is that preparing him for life in the real world?

Yes, he's three.
Yes, everywhere we looked, there was something NEW! and SHINY! and there were BUTTONS! and SWITCHES! and LIGHTS! and PLUGS! and ! and ! and!

No, I don't expect him to have perfect self control.
No, I don't expect him to always gracefully share and take turns.
No, I don't expect him to want to quit what he's doing so we can move on to something else.

But is it really asking too much to want him to listen to me? To believe that I am trying to meet his needs, to do what I know is best for him? To encourage him to feel empathy? To want him to take a second and think? To stand back, however momentarily, and consider that there might be consequences for his actions? That others might be impacted by the choices he makes?

Isn't that my job? To show him these things and provide him with opportunities to practice, practice, practice so that someday (hopefully soon) they will be instinctive? So that he can go out and use all that amazing energy and intelligence and charm and become a happy, respected, productive member of society? Isn't that the endgame?

Why must he fight me every step of the way?

I'm tired. So very, very, very tired. On the verge of giving up tired. I don't know what else to do.


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