The Brother Grim!

Can you guess which one?

The day began with a tantrum of epic proportions by H. I don't think even he knows what it was about. The snarkiness continued apace until I dropped him off at school and continued on his return.

How I haven't strangled him I have no idea but strangely I have remained calm as calm can be.

His latest 'thing', when asked to clear something up or do something onerous, like lay the table is, "I don't feel like doing that actually, so I don't think I will."

I let it go and did everything myself. Then, when he was ready to leave for school I told him I didn't feel like taking him (it isn't walking distance, it's in the next village). That kind of floored him. I finished my tea, slowly and pottered around in the kitchen, while he ranted and raved outside. Finally, with about two minutes to go he calmed down and apologised. I took him to school and he was late. He had to sign the late book, which upset him, but I just said a cheery "Bye", and left him to it.

We were supposed to be picking up his new violin tonight, but he walked into the house when we got home and threw all his stuff on the hall floor. I asked him to take it upstairs and I got, 'NO, I don't feel like it, so I don't think I will.'

"Fair enough," says I, and wandered off upstairs with his stuff to put it all away.

About half an hour later he asked me when we were going to pick up his violin, "We're not," I answered.

"WHY NOT?" he shouted,

"Because I don't feel like going and paying for it so I don't think I will."

Cue another strop fit.

I went out with the dog and took Noah. H tagged along. I *think* he thought we might call in to pick up the violin on the way back...he was wrong.

I've spared you the glowering expression in the photo...you just get the feet...I'm not entirely sure you know but I *think* even his feet are sulking ;-)

At supper time, he said he didn't like what I'd cooked. I said that was fine and left him to it. He stropped and sulked and finally ate it, once we'd all finished and I'd washed up. I told him that when he'd finished he'd need to wash up his plate and wipe all the table down because my duties were finished. He wasn't happy.

He's just come and apologised and is now sitting reading me a story.

Blimey eight-year-olds are hard bloomin' work.