Fetal Alcohol Syndrome at it's best . . .

. . . or worst I suppose. Last night Dustin was angry with me because he didn't want the supper we had prepared. You have choice in our home. You eat what we eat or you eat a peanut butter sandwich. He wanted nothing. I know he LOVES the meal we prepared. It's actually a favorite of his. I could tell he was being obstinate. I thought he would choose eat once we all sat down at the table.

Nope. He pushed and pushed and pushed. I was not going to be pulled into a power struggle and that made him more irritated. Later I was getting the kitchen cleaned up and he came in a sat down on a stool. After about 5 minutes of silence he said one thing. "I wish I had said no". I was confused as to what he was talking about and I asked him to clarify. He said, "When the judge asked me if I wanted to be a part of this family, I should've said no". I was shocked on several levels. One . . . I can't believe he actually remembers that day. That is astounding. Two. . . he isn't typically a hateful and spiteful child.

I immediately stopped what I was doing, turned to him and said. "Dustin. That breaks my heart. That day was one of the best days of my life and I would completely miss having you in the family. Is it always happy? No. Is it always fun? Nope. But that's what a family. We are a family and you don't give up on your family." He shook his head and said, "I want a peanut butter sandwich."

And with that the crisis was over. He was a lovie and cuddly the remainder of the night as always. FAS is crappy.