What to Do When Dr. Jekyll Jr. Becomes a Mini Mr. Hyde?

My son used to be the sweetest little boy you could ever meet. Oh, sure, lots of mothers say that, but it wasn't just me who thought so. Over the years, many people have complimented me on how compassionate, kind, even-tempered, and intelligent my son is. "Such a sweet boy!" is something I've heard often.

And then he started Kindergarten. Or maybe it's that he turned six. Not sure what the cause of his behavior change is, but it happened right around then. He has become demanding, short-tempered, and petulant. Oh, not all the time--no, of course not. Our sweet little boy is still in there but unfortunately, we don't see him quite as much as we used to.

Our son, during one of his
less-than-stellar moments

The transition to full-day Kindergarten has been tiring for him. The school bus gobbles my son up at 7:50 a.m. and spits him back out at 3:15 p.m. That is a long day for a six-year-old. But every other Kindergartener is dealing with this same schedule and I doubt all of them have undergone such personality changes. I'm sure the long days have something to do with the behavior changes, though. Our son absolutely adored preschool--he went three days a week and was usually bummed when it wasn't a school day. He loved the activities, teachers, and other kids. He was friends with everyone.

Well, he still loves his teachers and friends, and he enjoys school activities. But now every single morning goes something like this:

"It is a school day today?"

"Yes."

"Awwwwwww!!!! How many more days until the weekend?" (Imagine this uttered in the whiniest voice possible.)

Thankfully, all his bad behavior has (for now, at least) been restricted to when he's home. His school record is still blemish free; in fact, he's one of the only boys in his class whose status has never gone from Green ("Good") to Yellow ("Warning"). During parent/teacher conferences, his teacher raves about him--she literally has never said a less-than-glowing thing about him.

Which is why, when he gets home and rants and raves and orders me around, I'm dumbfounded. What the hell happened to the sweetest boy there ever was?

If this is a temporary thing, then fine, we can ride it out. I understand that kids go through phases and that each kid has his/her own way of dealing with change and stress.

But what if it's not temporary? If it continues, do we punish him for his outbursts? Right now, I'm reluctant to do so because he's in so much pain as it is in those moments, I hate to add to it. But on the other hand, we don't want him thinking he has free reign to be tyrannical whenever he feels like it.

If any of my faithful readers have experience with this, I'd love her hear how the situation panned out for you.

Because we are at a loss.

S#*! the Big Sister Says

All this talk about bullying really bums me out. I posted about it before (here) but I can't get it out of my mind.

Bullying isn't just amongst peers, although that's what's covered by the media; it also occurs within families. Fighting and name-calling between siblings close in age isn't bullying, it's just normal, but what about when a few-years-older sister mercilessly teases her little brother? Does that count as bullying? Was I a bully to my brother? I think maybe I was...and I feel really guilty about it.

My brother is four years younger than me. I also have an older brother--we're just 15 months apart and were very close growing up. We did everything together, I think. My little bro came on the scene when things around the house were already pretty darn good. Perhaps I could've used a little sister, mostly because I wanted a tiny mannequin to dress up and a long head of hair to braid and style: a living doll. So yes, a second brother was kind of a disappointment, though the reality is that nothing is better to a four-year-old girl than a real live baby.

I have fond memories of singing the ABC song to him while my mother changed his diaper, and I recall the impressive arc of pee shooting into the air as he laid on the changing table. Better than a Betsy Wetsy doll!

My brother was almost as good as a sister. He grew long, blonde curls (hey, it was the 70's) and had huge brown eyes with thick, feathery lashes that elicited, "Oh, she's so cute!" from the old ladies at Stop-n-Shop. I always got a kick out of that. At home, I'd put barrettes in his hair and make him look even prettier.

But none of that was mean because he didn't know any better; he thought it was fun and was happy to be getting attention from his big sister.

The trouble started when he was four or five and figured out how to manipulate my father with his tears and tantrums. Imagine the scene: Shopping mall; dad and kids in Kaybee Toys; the two older kids understanding that this is a "looking" visit not a "buying" one; the little brother understanding this but not accepting it, throwing himself onto the floor while crying, screaming, and kicking his arms and legs; the unprepared dad caving in and purchasing desired toy; the little brother beaming while exiting the store holding a gigantic backhoe loader.

It brought the evil out of my well-behaved, good-girl self.

I called him stupid and told him he wasn't as smart as me and my older brother. Sometimes I'd get mad at him and just call him a brat, but that never got the rise from him that "dummy" or "idiot" did. I knew how to wound him. When his pet turtle died, I taunted him with, "Yay! Tommy the Turtle's de-eh-ed! He's de-eh-ed!" As my brother cried, I laughed in his face.

I wish I could say that our taunts (it wasn't just me...my older brother chimed in as well) didn't have a lasting impression, but I don't think that's true. My brother never thought he was smart. He didn't do great in school and acted like he didn't care. But I'm happy to say that he got his act together toward the end of his college career, was accepted by and graduated from (as Valedictorian no less!) an excellent dental school, and is now very successful.

Still, though...I don't think he considers himself to be as smart as he actually is. He's not at all bookish. He doesn't do crossword puzzles like me and my other brother. I can't help but think he'd be different if it weren't for my put-downs, that my bullying changed him...permanently.

And for that, I'm really, really sorry.