Some days, looking after Ollie is a breeze. And I'm not talking about the days that he's at daycare! He's a sweet little guy, eats his meals, naps well and toddles around the house, picking up this and that, playing with his toys and books. Other days, he's short tempered, difficult to understand, won't eat his meals and can't entertain himself or be entertained. Days like this usually end up in the park and thankfully, being outdoors tends to calm our spirited and often unpredictable little son.
This evening, after a really good day of interactive play, sweet kisses for his brother, a visit from his grandmother and his usual bed time routine of bath, milk and stories, Ollie has ended the day with a screaming tantrum and has cried himself to sleep. I tucked him in with his beloved Tigger and toy train and he seemed happy enough, despite a short protest that story time was over. And then it started. It could have been Australia's 4-0 defeat against the Germans that finally got to him, but his bawling has left me feeling inadequate for not being able to placate him, and anxious about my lack of patience and short temper for his frustration. I love him. I just wish I could understand him better.