Monster

Bilbo, in Lord of the Rings, when His desire for the ring shows its true colors.

So after a weekend of fun watching movies, visiting the Renassiance Festival, and being overall "spoiled rotten" by his Grandadio and Grandmamio, Elijah returned home with us on Sunday afternoon. We were so happy for him to have this weekend, and we are so thankful to Steve and Kimberly for loving on him so much. He had a great time, and came back exhausted with a pirate's loot (figuratively and literally). And perhaps its that exhausted part that drives the rest of this story.

We went by Walmart on our way home to pick up a few things, and Elijah just seemed a little hyped up, touching everything, not really listening when we told him to come with us. I'm often surprised how he doesn't usually ask for many things in the store; and when he does, he seems okay with the answer (which is 99% of the time, a "no"). But this time, he seemed to have his heart on a new Toy Story plate since Stephanie bought a few new sippy cups for Aubrey. Not a big deal, but he did go boneless on me a few times as I tried to pull him along by the hand.

Anyway, we got the kids home, got dinner fixed, and sat down to dinner. Elijah has now entered that stage where he thinks its funny to pass gas (he gets it from his mother's side... and you all know I'm not kidding), eat food like a dog off the table, and generally test the patience of his parents with things such as putting his foot on the table. Well, my patience was wearing thin. I would tell him to stop doing one thing, only to have him move on to the next. But once he started licking the table and kept doing it after I told him not do--dinner was over. I took his plate up, and he lost desert and any chance of more food for the evening.

Then the meltdown started, and once one discipline was enacted, his reaction would necessitate more. He was told to go to his room, and he defiantly insisted, "NO!" I picked him up and put him in his room. He became irate, kicking the door, banging on walls (not to say he hasn't done this before), behaving like an all out wild monster. I told him this, which initiated a tearful response, "I'm not a monster, I'm a boy." Your heart might go out to such a pitiful plea, but this "sweet boy" lashed out by spitting (with tongue out) and swinging wildly at me. I even tried holding him tight to calm him down, but he fought hard and would throw his head back and spit on my arms. In his anger, things like "phowey" and "I don't like you, Daddy" turned especially venomous when he finally told me, "I wish you were dead." Wow, where did that come from?

A wicked and sinful heart, that's where.

It's amazing to see how quickly children can turn from sweet little innocent children who warm the heart and make a parent proud, to becoming a wild beast that causes his progenitors to question every bit of their parenting skills. Its almost shocking to see how irate he can become when his will is blocked. And yet, it shouldn't surprise me at all. He is my son. And I'm prone to do the same thing. I often put my immediate comfort and desires above the relationship and trust of my Heavenly Father. Which also begs the question, are there times that I've told God, "I wish you were dead?" Even if not in those words, have my actions communicated this message? Hmmmmm....