These last few months have been a rough one for Jacks. He’s been making some bad choices, with his words and his actions, and not been handling the consequences well. He’s got an “don’t care” attitude that could rival that of Miley Cyrus and learning new curse words faster than Chelsea Handler
Which, would actually be kinda entertaining if he wasn’t my 8 year old son.
This morning my mom called and said she found a few Post It Notes in the garbage. We had been over there on Sunday night and Jackson had been practicing his handwriting.
Or so we thought.
His Post It Notes had things written on them like “butt crack.” “Math is stupid.” “Piece of shit.”
Oh, and one more that read something that closely rhymes with “Duck you!”
Ummm…excuse me?! We don’t talk like that in our house. So WTF? (Haha, I couldn’t help myself.)
After we talked to Jackson about using that kind of language, we discussed his punishment and told him there was a possibility that he wouldn’t be able to go his best friends birthday party he had been looking forward to all week. He immediately started to cry and went to get paper and a pen. And 10 minutes later, he brought me back this:
He’s talking about killing himself? I had to have a whole other talk with him about that too. (Just out of curiosity, I asked him how he thought he would kill himself, and he said, “I’d just wait a million years and get old.” So he’s really just passing of old age.)
Drama, drama, drama. This is why I had boys, so I could bypass all this drama!!!