The last couple of days I've wanted to write a post about how Alex can be an evil demon child who spits fire and how I've had to stop myself from putting him out in the hallway for housekeeping to take away with the room service dishes. But before I can sit down at the computer to tell the Internet about his evil ways, he looks up at me and smiles and bats those gorgeous eyelashes at me and I'm all gooey and in love with him again. Today I said to John:
"Ya know, he's so cute, anyone who doesn't know him, just looking at him, they'd never know he was... you know..."
"Satan incarnate?"
"Yea, that."
He's always been a feisty one, that boy. And it doesn't help that since we've been on this trip, I've really let the rules slide. I fear that I've really let him get out of control. It can't help that he's watching WAY too much television and not getting enough exercise. Not to mention he's eating nothing but yogurt and french fries. Ugh, I feel like the worst mother in the world!
It's no wonder he's acting out. He's a child who needs routine, a schedule. He's just like his father that way. When he's on a good schedule, he eats better, sleeps better, doesn't punch me in the eye or pull hair out of my scalp in clumps. It's such a simple solution that has such dramatic results, you'd think I'd be better about keeping it up.
I'll do my best the next three days to get him to eat better and let him run around more. I think just those two things will help tremendously. But when we get home, I'm getting serious. I'm cutting him off of french fries and television completely (well, I'll probably still let him watch his reading DVD's) and I am going to make a point to provide him opportunities to run and play every day. I'm anxious to rehabilitate this crazed mini-Hulk back into that cherubic (albeit feisty) little boy I once had.
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