Caleb had a temper tantrum this afternoon.

Actually, he had several.

Actually, most of his afternoon was spent in a state of upheaval, starting with being angry with his brother about the Wii game they were playing (wii: from the ancient Japanese word for “fratricide”). 

At some point, without any of us noticing, he scrawled a message for us on the seen-way-better-days wall-to-wall carpet that came with our apartment:  I heyt you.

Washable marker, but still. Pretty bad stuff. Of course, Husband and I didn’t notice it until after both boys were in their kennels–I mean, tucked in their beddy-byes asleep. We figure tomorrow we’ll do the “it hurts our feelings when you say these things, and you know better than to write on the rug,  etc etc” and other namby-pamby progressive parenting blather, and then ask him to help us scrub the carpet clean.

To add insult to injury, the kid misspelled the word “hate.” For crissake.

But at least he realized that you put a period at the end of a sentence.

Guess that fancy-ass gifted-and-talented kindergarten is good for something.