I have the funniest 8-year-old ever. At least, the funniest one I ever knew. I just fell back in love with him after being irritated this morning. The bossiness! Oh, how I loathe it. Why must first-born boys pretend to be the parent? Why??
Well, this morning I told him that he was going to be disciplined every. single. time.
I just hadn’t decided what the consequences were going to be.
And then I heard bossiness.
“Go to your room!” I sputtered.
Um.
Um.
What next? I thought. Going to his room isn’t a form of discipline. It is more like putting him in the waiting room.
“And…um…write I will not be bossy seven times.”
Why seven? I don’t know! I think I forgot he was eight!
I had intended to use chores, but everything was already done, so copywork it was.
This is almost CM habit training, but not quite, right?
A little later, a paper airplane flew my way. Sure enough, when I unfolded it, I found the required sentences.
The funny thing is that 20 minutes later, I was hit in the arm by yet another plane.
Covered with yet another seven sentences.
I sat there for a second, confused.
Then I found him.
“What is this?” I asked him.
“I did it again,” he confessed.
That’s right. He punished himself!
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