Yesterday, I watched my son have a total meltdown as his Dad explains to him that for the rest of this week he'll no longer be allowed to play with his Wii. He's had it for less than a week and we're all ready taking it away from him.
As I can probably imagine this is as close to the end of the world for him as it can get.
He watched me with the most accusing eyes from his Dad's lap as I did what hubby asked and packed the game away in it's box.
Out of sight, out of mind...not for this kid.
The cries turned to wailing and my husband had to stick his fingers in his ears to protect his poor eardrum.
Finally hubby has had enough and picks Famani si'i up and puts him on the bed and walks out of the room.
Famani si'i cries.
I hate to hear this cry.
The one where you know his feelings have been hurt and even though he can't fully understand why, it is something that had to be done.
And I stand behind my hubby 100% on it and my son knows it.
I'm sitting on the couch and he's on the bed.
We're staring at each other, his is more of a glare.
I get up from the couch walk over to the bed, and sit down next to my son.
I don't say anything, but the volume of his cry automatically goes down.
I want to console him, but I don't know if he wants me to.
He picks up my arm, puts it around him and leans on me.
The cries have subsided, just sniffles and tears streaming silently from us both. This is when being a parent totally bites and I wish he had one of his cool Aunties around to rescue him since I can't be the cool Auntie this time. :(
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