My “Spirited” Child

Since birth, Jacoby has always been what the books refer to as “spirited.” Trust me, I’ve read ALL the books (Raising Your Spirited Child, by Mary Sheedy Kurcinka, Ed.D.; Raising Lions, by Joe Newman; Peaceful Parent, Happy Kids, by Dr. Laura Markham; Positive Discipline for Preschoolers, by Jane Nelson, Ed.D., Cheryl Erwin and Roslyn Ann Duffy…and the list goes on). Instead of referring to him as a loud, explosive and unpredictable psychopath, I’ve learned (thanks to ALL the books) that we should use positive labels when describing questionable characteristics in our offspring. So I like to say my almost-7-year-old is a zestful, strong-willed, and passionate little boy (to his face). Apparently he’s going to be a leader some day. Or end up in prison because he doesn’t respect authority. We shall see…

I used to welcome drop off at school on the rough mornings, but now, in our quarantined prison, the struggle is real. Jacoby’s the type of kid that has a wise-ass response to literally everything. My husband and I both grew up knowing that if were were flip or if rules were broken, there’d be consequences. We’ve tried ALL the consequences, but there’s very little that has an affect on our “spirited” Jacoby. It’s infuriating.

Last weekend, he was exceptionally difficult. And it happened to be my quarantined 37th birthday. Happy birthday to me! The one thing our poor lonely child truly loves right now is riding his bike around our neighborhood and visiting his friend Anna down the street (socially distanced of course). After being a little asshole for a better part of the day, I finally snapped and took his fucking bike away. He was devastated. That was Sunday. He was supposed to get it back on Tuesday but continued to be an a-hole, so now it’s Thursday and his bike is still taking up the back of my car (thankfully we have nowhere to go).

The irony in quarantine is exceptional. Today, the sun is shining bright and it’s a perfect day for a bike ride…but my “spirited” child gets to walk and sulk. I asked him to put his socks on this morning (because he complained about having cold feet) and instead of jumping at the opportunity to potentially earn his beloved bike back (and warm his toes), he adamantly refused and then proceeded to be a dick. All over fucking socks!

*Please know that although I refer to my kid as an asshole and/or dick (because he is sometimes), I wouldn’t trade his “spirit” for anything. He is exhaustingly energetic and so fucking smart. Close friends and family have come to accept my unfortunate humor and understand how much I friggin’ love him, but I do realize as my second post ever, that this might require explanation to the general public. Don’t call DCF…we’re all fine.