Okay, friends. Today’s post is not about pretty writing and aha! moments. I need some advice. Here are the details:
On Monday afternoon I took the boys to the grocery store. There was a sale on Crayola products in the aisle of the frozen foods section. Go figure. In an effort to quiet the beasts, I tossed three items in the cart: some crayons, markers and colored pencils.
Upon leaving the store my 7-year-old, Jamis, made a weak and false attempt at helping me load the groceries into the car. It was all so that he could just find and steal the new goodies from the bag and fondle them on the ride home. I was pissed and took said goodies away. Help or don’t help, but don’t do it in disguise. The items were placed in the glove compartment of my van.
Jamis wrote himself a reminder note to get the items from the car the next morning. I specifically told him that he could choose only one thing to bring with him to school, and the other two would be staying at home. He chose the crayons and hopped on the bus, happy to share his new shiny box with his classmates. I tucked the other two things back into the glove box to keep them out of view from the little boys.
It is now two days later and about 30 minutes ago Jamis kissed me goodbye and went out the back door to retrieve his backpack from the car before heading to the bus stop. A minute later he reappeared at the front door.
“What are you doing? You are going to miss the bus!” I shuffled him back out the door and followed him.
“But I have to tell you something,” he said.
“What!?”
“A cup of coffee spilled in the car and got all over a check that was there.”
My eyebrows raised and my voice got tight. “You mean, YOU spilled it?”
“No, I didn’t. I don’t know how it happened.”
At this point there is a lot of quick back-and-forth over the matter. I’ll limit this to Jamis’s part.
“It was like that when I got in the car…I just opened the door and the wind blew it over…I don’t know how it happened…”
Yup, 3+ excuses as to why there is coffee spilled all over the center console of my van and a check for $700 is now dyed a lovely shade of brown. Like the last incident I wrote about which involved some candy-sneaking, I gave Jamis the opportunity to tell me the truth: “Just tell me that you did it, Jamis. Tell me the truth.”
Alas, no truth was told. He fled to the bus stop.
I grabbed a towel and went to the car to clean up the mess. There was no reason for Jamis to be in the front seat to get his backpack, which would have been in the third row of seats. So I reached across to the glove box and pulled out the lone remaining package of Crayola goods, confirming my suspicions. Infuriated, I started for the bus stop to tell Jamis just how disappointed I was and to take the colored pencils from his bag. But just as I rounded the corner he stepped up on the bus and found his seat among the tall green rows.
Now, what to do? He lied. He stole. It’s not the first time.
I know he is only 7 but this is unacceptable to me. I know that he didn’t ask permission for the colored pencils because he assumed I would say no. And he is right. I would have. I had already specified that only one item would make it’s way to school. The others would stay at home for everyone to be able to use.
I know he lied because he was afraid I’d find out about the pencils, and that I would be mad about both the stealing and the spilling. He is right, again. But knowing all of this doesn’t excuse any behavior.
So here I sit wondering how severe the consequences will get this time. I hate this job. But I hate lying and stealing even more. Lying is my NUMBER ONE. I feel like someone has tromped all over my face with a muddy pair of army boots when I’ve been lied to. It doesn’t feel good. I won’t stand for it.
So what’s the punishment, friends? How the hell do I make my point and help my kid realize that lying will always, ALWAYS land him in a boatload more of trouble?! I know he’s got a small sense of responsibility, because he TOLD me about the spill instead of letting me find out about it myself. I know he’s pretty sick and tired of getting in trouble, but I’m even more sick and tired of doling out the trouble.
Graciously accepting all advice. Please!
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