My uncle is fond of telling me, when I'm in a rough patch, "without its stones, the brook would lose its song." Hmm.
We've gotten stitches recently - unfortunately for Aidan's later telling when he's impressing girls who see the scar on his chin (that will, inevitably, be there due to the obvious mediocre stitching job done) ask what happened, he fell coming in the door during a snowstorm. That's a little rough patch - you can't take the gorgeous out of Aidan, and it's really under his chin anyway; you can't see it unless he's looking up.
A more rough, rough patch is what I'm hoping is a phase. I keep thinking of the poem my dad used to say when I was little (and had curlier hair)
There was a little girl, and she had a little curl
right in the middle of her forehead,
and when she was good, she was very, very good,
but when she was bad, she was horrid.
I think the poor kid's me. You either got one or the other from me, and that's about what you get from him. This morning OSU cheerleaders and Brutus came to his gym class. He loves them, knows some of their cheers, and was saying he hoped that Brutus would be there when he saw the cheerleaders. Auspicious beginning, and we should've just left then. He wouldn't participate; he didn't feel like doing the things they wanted to do. He elaborately yawned, said he was tired, and draped himself across the floor or me. He wouldn't interact, and when they'd try to talk to him, he was poopy, for lack of a better word. I think at the beginning he might've thought he was being cute/shy, but it got worse and worse, and we eventually had to take him out of the class. Really?
Last night we went out to dinner, and he was delightful. The waiter even commented that they have lots of kids there, and his behavior had been exceptional. We were so proud; I think it made us cocky.
If he gets in a mood, he makes angry faces, he tries to hit my face, he's just awful. Last weekend we left his friend's house when he wanted to stay (which would've been a nonending condition), and he was poopy for hours. It could be something small - once I "broke his rule" by getting him new socks (because his feet grew), and he was awful for hours. He doesn't like new things or change; wants everything to stay the way it is. Sometimes he snaps right out, and sometimes it's like he's determined that everyone should be miserable.
Wish I had the solution. I've tried about every approach I can think of, and almost nothing works. All I can do is hold on to the "very, very good" portions. He is the most snuggly, loving, sweetheart boy. Every night when I ask him what he'll dream that night, he says something about me. He and I will make cookies in his dreams or some other fun thing. He's effusive in his affection. He just needs to work out how to be disappointed without falling apart.