Nolan got in trouble today for jumping on his bed after his brother was injured for the second time and had already been warned that he would lose his "music player" (boom box) if he was caught jumping again. So he lost the music player and launched into an insane tantrum. Later, at dinner, we had the following conversation:
Nolan: "Mommy, I love you so, so much."
Me: "I love you too sweetie."
Nolan: "But sometimes I just don't really like you Mommy."
Me: "That's ok, I still love you and like you."
Nolan: "I don't like you taking things away from me."
Me: "I know, but there are rules."
Nolan: "I think you won't like me taking things away from you."
Me: "Like what?"
Nolan stares at me silently with a thoughtful expression and goes back to eating.
Great, now I get to be on the lookout for shit that has gone missing. Then again, he already took my self-respect, my sanity, my flat stomach, my perky boobs, my money, my sleep and my last nerve. So really, what's left?