Tweendom du dum dum

It has hit. Tweedom. My kid is a tweenie. A tweenster.

He is 11 and the emotions and sass and backtalk and under-the-breath muttering and door slamming and behind-closed-doors cursing (undoubtedly accompanied by flipping the bird) has begun.

This week on Tweens of Our Lives the story line is sharing. Sharing and how it directly feeds poison into the brain causing epileptic fits complete with spitting and tears.

No, this isn’t a toddler, it’s a preteen. The culprit: Legos. Not the built, colossal lego set left untouched after fighting through the manual. Not the Minecraft built out level. I have implemented a shared lego bin from the tens of bins left untouched for over a year.

Evil bitch mom.

Apparently I don’t understand how special and important each individual lego piece in the dusty forgotten bin is!! Im a monster!!

It has been 2 days of bitter resentment and acting out over this fucking lego bin and I’m not ashamed to say that it’s causing me to see bins of colorful prescription pills instead of plastic interlocking bricks. I’m about to be committed over my nearly twelve year old son flat out refusing to see any reason when it comes to sharing without resentment.

*two hours later*

To his credit, after using props and trading places with his sibling he has finally conceded that my forced decision of a community lego bin was a reasonable one considering the amount he still gets to keep for himself. But only after a full out internal combustion, brain-imploding fit of nearly swallowing his tongue. This is not an exaggeration.

Stubbornness is a super power that runs deep in this family.

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