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The Power Rangers Are Attacking!!
The war has begun. They surround me with their super-mega-ultra guns and their double fire crossbows and their magic power swords and shouts of death and destruction. The Power Rangers have swooped down to earth and stolen away my precious, innocent, fun to play with Georgie. I'll never forgive them. In my head I wonder if I mean the toy companies or the parents. Hmph. In this case I suppose its either or. What once was a sweet, little kid who loved his train set and his construction set and his farm set, is now a hyper, rather unmanageable beast who uses his train set as a place for pile-ups and war, his construction set as new vehicles for his Rangers to drive and destroy, and his farm, well, his farm is just being plain old neglected. Kinda like the nanny. Sitting in the kitchen trying to find some busy work because little monster child prefers to do the Power Rangers thing on his own. Hey George, want to color? Go outside? Go to the park? No, that's okay, I'm just playing right now. Alrighty then. It all started innocently enough. George had caught a few moments of the show on a Saturday morning and, as all the shows tend to do, was hooked. Tell the kid there's a Power Rangers movie and fate was decided. But a vicious cycle had already begun. The actions in the movie were constantly being replayed at home, yelling was the only tone of voice heard in the house, orders were issued and expected to be obeyed. And this was all from the three-year-old. If you have been so unfortunate as to have witnessed this spectacle that someone somewhere decided to call a TV show, then you know that passivity and tolerance and non-violent problem solving is NOT what it is about. Needless to say, roles from the film were brought forth and acted out on a daily basis and the lovely home that I was under the impression that I worked in had, overnight, become Brat City. Now, bratty is fine. Bratty is normal. Bratty is tolerable at the worst of times. But generally, brattiness tends to fade when the reaction to the brattiness starts to wane down to complete disinterest. And I had accomplished that. Somehow, in our daily routine, his actions were less and less disrespectful with every look of annoyance or room changing. We certainly didn't have a lot of fun, I can tell you that for certain. He tried, oh boy, did that kid try. He was pushy, rude, ill mannered and offensive. But when I say cut it out, I MEAN cut it out. It put quite a damper on our day and seemed to seep into and ruin our usually fun daily activities. I certainly didn't like being there, and he certainly didn't like me being there. However, my way was working and I was still the one in charge. As it should be. Mom and dad, on the other hand, well, like usual, they were a WHOLE other story. If you have very little control over your child at the best of times, don't expect to have much of it at the worst. This little Power Ranger wannabe was so demanding and disruptive that I feel it put the household into quite a tailspin. Once I left for the day, all bets were off, no holds were barred, George was large and in charge. And I think we all can deduce what chain of events came next. You got it. Power Ranger figures and accessories littered the living room, the bedroom, the basement, even the bathroom. I just know what the sneaky devil did to get them all too. Can you say tantrum? I knew you could. So here is where the cycle really starts moving. Watching the show makes him crazy and hyper, mom and dad come home and he is out of control (for them), he's already pissed at me for not letting him watch the movie during the day and is perfectly happy to see me go (although I always got my hug and kiss before leaving!), the littlest thing sets him off and to calm him down, they go buy him something. Bravo. He was watching some show while she was getting ready for work one day and every time a commercial came on, he would run down his list of I want's. The list was getting to be quite lengthy and included a myriad of Power Rangers and things of the like. So finally, in pure frustration, the mom said, " George, you have to stop asking for all of this stuff!" I was stunned. She was shifting the blame to a three-year-old. Every kid sees commercials and says I want that, can I get that? I wanted to march into her bedroom and scream at the top of my lungs, "What are you talking about! He is a KID! He is SUPPOSED to ask for everything he sees! It's what kids do! They'll never know if they can have something if they don't ask for it! You should be yelling at yourself to stop buying him every single thing that he asks for! You are giving him a false sense of thinking that all he has to do is let you know what it is he wants and you'll come home with it in your bag! How can you give a kid heck for asking? You should be giving yourself a big slap on the wrist for trying to fix things with toys! YOU ARE THE ADULT HERE!" But I didn't. There are, however, nail marks in the side of my chair from keeping myself firmly planted in it. When he would ask me to buy him things, I would just laugh and tell him to tell mom and dad to pay me more and I will. Hee hee. A little nanny humor. He doesn't realize that I work for mom and dad so don't worry, he didn't get it. According to him I don't go to work. Nice recognition for a job well done huh? But anyway, the movie has since been returned (after paying lengthy overdue fines, weathering a tantrum because dad gave the false impression that the tape was George's to keep, and then finally just sneaking it out of the house), and things are slowly going back to normal. We actually played with his trains, his construction AND his farm this week. And it didn't all turn into a collision course for attacking monsters. We've been outside so much that he is pooped and filthy when I leave everyday. And that is how it should be. He still plays with his Power Rangers, but not so much that it distorts his impression of how to behave and treat people. He is once again happy to see me in the morning, and still won't let me leave without my obligatory hug and kiss. I told mom and dad that I KNEW it was the movie doing the damage and they see the change too. And since it's gone back, not one new toy has entered the house. No tantrums, no purchases. Everything's coming up rosy. I have my sweet, playful Georgie back. And I knew that for a fact on Friday when I left for the day. I was walking to my Jeep and heard a little, "I love you Charlotte". I smiled and blew him another kiss and said, "I love you too, sweetie, I love you too." Now THAT'S my Georgie.
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