Frustration . . .

Okay, this little scene just happened at our house and symbolizes a common problem we deal with around here. It deals with food issues and object permanence and plain old indecisiveness. Yay for Fetal Alcohol Syndrome (<--- insert sarcasm here)

Dustin came home from being with his mentor. He asked for a snack. I said certainly, you can have a snack from your basket. He did not want a snack from his basket, he wanted a couple Slim Jims, the short ones that come in the can. I agreed. I told him he could have 2.

He asked for another. I said no, but he could still have something from his basket. He said, "Nah, I'm not hungry."

He sat down in the "kid area" to watch television before bed. He is only about 20 feet from where we are sitting in the living room. I see him bending completely over and trying to get something from under the loveseat. I say, "Bring me the Slim Jim." He brings one unopened one over and says, "I'm sorry I stole, this is the only one, I swear." He is told to come over to the adult living room and have a seat since he cannot do the right thing.

I see the dog trying to dig under the couch. Lo and behold, I find two more wrappers under the couch. So he has eaten four. He sits in the living room for a total of 5 minutes and Robert asks him is he wants the rest of his soup. Dustin does and is told to go to the table. The table is about 40 feet from me in the living room and in direct line of sight of where I am sitting. He goes to the kitchen gets a spoon and sits down at the table. In his other hand is another unopened can of Slim Jims (they were on sale on a 2fer) He brings the Slim Jim can up to his lips and very noisly rips the plastic strip off the can with his teeth. I look over and see him reaching into the can, he looks at me straight faced and says, "What? I didn't do anything."

Seriously.

I then him to come back to the living room and he collapses on the floor hollering wanting the soup. I tell him I will sit iwht him if he really wants to eat the soup he can be monitored and he starts saying he doesn't want the soup. Then, he begins hooting about being tired and wanting to go to bed. I tell him we will take him upstairs and turn on the alarms and he can go to bed, then starts hollering about wanting to sleep on the loveseat in the kids area.

Nothing is ever easy.

Right now he is sitting in the only chair in the living room that you cannot see the television from. He is settled down but certainly not happy. He keeps going on under his breath about how we don't want him to eat and how we don't want him to live here. He keeps saying that nobody loves him. Every once in a while I respond by telling him I love him and he needs to be quiet and rest.

I'm pooped.