Not taking the biscuit


I watched the light drain from the day through the petals of the tulips on the kitchen table.

Beside them on the table was a cold mug of drinking chocolate, a thick and wrinkled skin covering its surface, and a packet of biscuits.

“Do you want to die?” shouted the secondborn.

It was a difference of opinion over the biscuits. Those on the table were not the right sort. I was ordered to go out and buy a different sort.

I had said no, and was sticking to it, had stuck to it for nearly two hours of screaming tantrum and was still saying no in the face of threatened annihilation.

I was very tired.

“Yes” I said. “Yes, I want to die.”

5 Replies to “Not taking the biscuit”

  1. But how wonderful that he feels free to express these terrible thoughts, not internalise them – so much less chance that he will often want to die when he grows up! And how little help that is to you at the time! Lots of love.

  2. I thought that was when mothers trotted out the “think of all the starving children in ________” Never worked with me as a kid either.

  3. But two hours…?! Is their no way you can walk away from that? Here speaks a woman with no kids, but you have my sympathy. Surely you don’t have to take endless crap from no matter where?
    Poor darling, much love.

  4. Yes, he’s a bit of a monster. Very, very determined (for which I admire him) and full of rage (with which I empathise) but the combination makes for difficult child-rearing. But he’s so much better than he used to be. Such scenes could continue for an entire day not so long ago. And it is good that he can express his anger rather than turning it inward. And it’s impossible to walk away because he follows šŸ™‚

    Oh dear, Leslee. I too have been guilty of saying “think of the starving children… ” etc. My own response to my parents under those circumstances was to say “send it to them then” and with this in mind I try not to say it at all.

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