Mr. Z is majorly flipping his lid, of late. He's had a little cold for a few days and I think he's still wiped from our trip to the lake. But unlike other (regular) kids who, in a similar situation, might just mope around a little, Mr. Z goes completely bonkeroonie.
For example, yesterday, when I dropped him off at camp, he saw "She-who-cannot-be-named," the girl he has a crush on. Instead of just ignoring her, like he normally does, he started doing that I'm-trying-real-hard-not-to-cry-but-I'm-going-to-anyway-puffy-
lower-lip thing and saying, "I don't feel good today, Dad. I want to go home." It was heartbreaking, but I knew if he would just calm down a bit, everything would be fine. So I stayed around for about 10 minutes and, sure enough, he started getting into the camp songs that they were singing and then he gave me that signal that means, "Okay dad, I'm fine now, so get the fuck outta here!"
Then today, while I was working, I heard him having a major meltdown upstairs, complete with screaming at the old lady and stomping upstairs to his room, with a door slam for good measure. Apparently, the old lady said he had to turn off his video game for dinner, or something and he went ballistic.
When I got upstairs, he had calmed down a bit, but was walking that tightrope between "I've pulled my shit together," and "My shit is about to be sprayed all over the fucking place." I was talking to him at dinner and he said, as that puffy lip thing started again, "Dad, I wish I could ride on a manatee someday." Seriously -- he was about to lose his shit because he knows he'll never ride on the back of a manatee. I got the lip to stop a-quiverin' by saying, "Yeah, but if you're lucky, you can have the next best thing -- I'll give you a piggyback ride without my shirt on." Hey, I was desperate... and it made him laugh, so there you go.
Then, as he was sitting on the crapper after dinner, I walked in the bathroom and he said, the ol' lip fluppa-fluppa-fluppin' one mo' time, "Dad, I really love all the shirts you and Mom have gotten for me." What the shit, dude?! I had no idea what to say to that one, except, "Well, I'm sure the shirts really love you, too. Now hurry up and pinch that thing off 'cuz you've got to get some serious sleep, my boy."
Luckily, he fell asleep the minute his head hit the pillow. Hopefully he'll be back to "normal" by tomorrow. Or maybe I'll catch him weeping into his bowl of cereal -- "Dad, these Cheerios are so round and packed with that cruchy, honey-dipped, nutty taste -- I... I... just can't bring myself to eat them."
Fuck, he's going to go over the edge when I tell him that Pluto's no longer a planet.