life in bedlam
A snapshot of Eli.
The past weekend started auspiciously for him, with a celebration of the tenth anniversary of the boys’ school that included a reprise of his performance as Linus in You’re A Good Man, Charlie Brown. He then moved on to a much-anticipated sleepover birthday party at a good friend’s house. The next day, he and his teammates won their final game of the spring soccer season. Then, he and I watered the garden together so he could learn how to do it on his own and he was so pleased with his new responsibility.
I mean, this is all good stuff, right?
But, Eli has a bit of a reputation in our house. Brandon calls him “the boy who is only happy being unhappy.” True to form, Sunday night, just as the weekend was about to conclude without a single moment of whining, he found an object for his unhappiness: successful Broadway performers trodding the boards at the Tony Awards.
Now, he didn’t begrudge them their talent, mind you. Instead, he was insanely jealous that they were performing in front of thousands of people, and that they seemed to do so with such ease. He cried, and, yes, he whined. When we suggested he was overtired, he became more indignant.
Finally, we sent him to bed so we could watch Mad Men (kind of a quiet end to the season, eh?). Eli stomped up the stairs dramatically and slammed his door. Moments later, he re-opened his door, padded down a few stairs and declared, “Normally, this would be when I would come down and say ‘I love you’ and kiss you good night, but tonight I’m coming down to say ‘I hate you! I hope you have nightmares!'”
The next morning, he awoke with his usual reluctance, and seemed uninterested as to whether or not we had indeed had the nightmares he wished upon us.