Yesterday while on our way to Noah's vision therapy appointment I had to pull off to the side of the road.
Because of a cookie. A cookie I wouldn't give Noah, even though he was starving! and needed! that cookie.*
So Noah had a temper tantrum. Like a two year-old, but in an eight year-old body. A screaming, trash talking, spitting and throwing, kicking my seat temper tantrum. While I was driving.
And I thought "fuck this shit" and I pulled over and sat there with my hazard lights on, while Noah continued to freak the fuck out. And I sat there checking my email on my phone and half hoping/half fearing that the police were going to pull up behind me.
Eventually he calmed down and we drove home. No police. I have no idea if it made an impact on him or not. I do know he will be cleaning up the spit in the back seat after school tomorrow.
When we got home Noah went to spend some time in his room. I ate the cookie. It was a good cookie!
*There was a cookie, and I did refuse to give it to him because between picking him up from school and him seeing there was a cookie, I realized he had lied to me about cleaning something out of the car the night before.