Walking the Rabbit to school -- and for that matter, home -- has become an exercise in frustration for both of us.
It seems no matter what I say I end up with an angry, petulant situation -- and that's just me. The Rabbit fights me at every turn. Holding my hand on the way to school. Mad because I forgot to bring a bagel on our walk in the morning. (This is not her breakfast by the way. That would be the juice, cereal, banana and yogurt that sat out for 45 minutes while she ran around NOT eating breakfast.)
Then there are the snotty comments, "You're not the boss of me." (Right.) "I don't want to walk with you!" And the screams that erupt when I say, "Fine" and continue to walk ahead of her (we're talking 3 feet ahead of her.)
It's gotten so I don't want to take her nor pick her up anymore. And that I have to steel myself for these walks which I used to look forward SO much.
I crafted a career (believe it or not) long before I became a Mama so that I specifically could be home after school. I wanted to be there to hear the stories, laugh during snacks, even be banished from rooms when best friends were over and Mama wasn't cool. (Already happening, and I smile.)
But this -- this mysterious layer of frustration that seems to coat her like an oily sheen, that I can't hug away, wash away, kiss away. This I wasn't prepared for. At least I thought I'd have another 10 years before it did.
Who knew that 5-years-old was the new 15?