This morning, Jack was pretty happy—a pleasant surprise. The second the bus drove up, he raced upstairs on some kind of a mission. He came trucking back down with an armful of vacuum attachments, which I was not about to take away from him lest I incur his wrath.
“Okay Jack, sure you can take those attachments to school! Stay happy, buddy, and be good today,” I called after him as he ran outside.
Joie, the bus driver, looked at us like we were nuts, but didn’t make a fuss about it.
My friend Heather sees what’s happening on the bus because they stop for her son after my guys get on. She updated me on the vacuum attachment situation:
Apparently Jack spent the drive to school passing attachments one at a time to Charlie, who then passed them to Kaleb, at which point, Jack wanted them all back. They figured out a system and it worked. Whatever.
I’m taking the Jack situation one day at a time right now. Sometimes I take it just an hour at a time. I can’t think too much about the volatile, aggressive kinds of behavior we are seeing now happening long into the future without sending myself into a tailspin of despair.
I don’t see this as denial. I see it as mindfulness. Purposefully living in the moment in order to survive. And I had a doughnut for lunch.