Monday morning was one of the worst mornings of all time. Jackson refused to participate in life. He did not want to wake up.
He refused to eat breakfast.
He would not get dressed. I had to force off his pajamas and force his clothes on him.
He would not brush his teeth.
It was crazy hair day at his school. I tried to spike his hair up. He completely freaked out so I combed it down.
He then refused to put on his shoes or his coat.
I had to force them on.
(I skipped eating and brushing his teeth. Seriously, I can’t be super-mom every day. Or any day for that matter.)
He cried the entire way to preschool. He said he didn’t want to go. He said he would not go, that he wouldn’t get out of the car.
Once I got him in the building he refused to walk to his classroom. I had to carry him, football style, along with two backpacks into the room. He cried and stomped his feet. Jackson would not even talk to his teacher, who is his most favorite person in the whole world.
She told me to just leave him there. So I did.
I cried on the way out.
Three hours later I picked him up. He was fine.
The teacher said he told her all about his morning. How he didn’t want to get dressed. Or eat. Or do his hair. Or go to school. He also said…
“Sometimes my Mommy is so agitating!”
Right. I’m the agitating one.