October 20: My Little Delinquent, Tired, "Web" Dip

Yes, my six-year-old son committed another grade school felony on the playground today.  He punched one of his classmates, and then, when he was brought inside the school, he proceeded to throw homework bins and create general havoc.  He had to be brought to the time-out room, which I assume is the equivalent of kiddy solitary confinement.  Pretty soon, my little delinquent is going to be fashioning a shiv out of Elmer's Glue, Cheetos, and glitter.

Yes, I'm tired of doing crisis management at home.  My son isn't a bad kid.  He has bad moments.  I truly don't think he intends to hurt anybody.  He just doesn't have a whole lot of impulse control, and, when he loses control, he's a hurricane, destroying everything in his path.  I know he's a boy.  I know boys play rough.  I get that.  Well, actually, I don't get it.  But I understand it.  I wasn't like that as a little kid.  I preferred sitting somewhere, reading a book or drawing in my sketchbook.  In short, I was the kid who got punched.

Thus, my Web dip question:

Will my son ever learn to control himself?

And the answer from Charlotte:

"Certainly-ertainly-ertainly," said the gander.  "You may have the egg.  But I'll tell you one thing, Templeton, if I ever catch you poking-oking-oking your ugly nose around out goslings, I'll give you the worst pounding a rat ever took..."

Okay, so either my son will eventually get the crap pounded out of him, or my son will continue to pound the crap out of  his classmates.

Saint Marty needs to know who's the gander and who's the rat.

I guess I should save up for bail, not college