Last night, the last thing Husband said to me was "Jackson is on about getting some mission done on Club Penguin. Just so you know, he's saying he's gonna get up at 5. Oh and his membership expires at midnight, but I renewed it."
Predictably, the next morning Jackson came into our room on the verge of tears. "Where's Daddy?"
"On his way to work."
"Well, you better renew my membership."
The online Club Penguin membership was not showing as renewed and that was preventing him from doing what he was fixated upon. He was on the verge of a meltdown of biblical proportions. Every fiber in his being was pulsing with fury over his inability to play his game.
I tried to suggest solutions, to problem solve, to distract and to soothe.
He was not entirely out of control. To his credit, save for a few incivilities hurled at me as the de facto and convenient target, he actually held it together pretty well. He went to an old computer and started keyboarding. A few minutes later he asked me to read a note he had written. It read as follows:
To: guy who made membership,
I hate you and you're a $%#! You know what devil I will come to your house shortly to kill you.
Send this to the devil please, thank you!
You know what I think about this? Well, I am glossing over the threat of violence as an indication of a future serial killer or poor marriage material. But did you see the spelling in that note? Perfect. And he got the correct usage of "you're" and "your". And he said both please AND thank you.
I am very proud. And I know that it makes my standards pretty low when a threat of homicide brings a smile to my heart. But, you take what you can get around here.