look of the day

Obviously this guy was a bit angry when this photo was taken. The story goes something like this: on the way home from school I told him we were going to the library. It was a cloudy, dreary, Pacific Northwestern kind of day, and I thought the library would be a viable option for entertainment. Catcher wanted nothing to do with this plan. He wanted to have a play date with his friend at his friend's house (to which he had not been invited). He proceeded to whine "Do we have to go to the library?" for the first five blocks of our walk home. I answered (as any calm, level-headed parent would) "No. We do not have to go to the library. I just thought it was a good idea for this yucky afternoon." That was the end of that...or so I thought.

About an hour later after we were settled at home and snacks had been doled out--and scarfed down--to the troops, a tearful Catcher emerges from Scout's room (I thought they were playing nicely?) and says "I thought we were going to the library." I looked at him slightly confused and answered "But you told me you didn't want to go to the library." That was the wrong thing to say. The next thing I know the tears in his eyes were full blown and running down his cheeks. He turned blotchy. He started screaming about this all being my fault--what the hell just happened? All of a sudden I was the worst person in the world who didn't take him to the library after he told me he didn't want to go to the library.

Catcher then began stomping around the room demanding that I take him to...the library. Obviously this wasn't happening, so he attacked the poor plant you see in the corner behind him (above). Admittedly our "money tree" (seriously, that's what it's called) has been looking somewhat listless lately, but now it's just pathetic. Poor plant. Poor frustrated six year-old.

I later figured out the source of all this consternation was from an incident on the playground involving a kindergartener tackling Catcher from behind and throwing sand in his eyes. I get it--that would tick me off, too. I offered the suggestion, however, that maybe we could talk about the rogue kindergartener before Catcher decides to blow-up at home and take it out on me (and the poor plant) next time.