"...and I am NOT gonna be your son anymore and I'm going to throw you in the garbage!"
So says my beloved firstborn. It's his new favourite phrase and frankly, it's beginning to wear very, very thin.
Where did he learn this? Where did he learn to put all these words together and deliver them with such feeling, such overwrought, four-year-old rage? And omigod, WHEN will it end???
I know that I should simply ignore it and carry on. And for the most part, I do. The only response I've offered thus far is a calm, "Well, I love you, Matthew and I will always be your Mummy forever and ever!"
But inside? I'm a mess. God help me when this fire-haired, wildly-tempered little boy turns 11.