Normally, my response to that is to try to stay close to home and shoot for a good, long nap. Unfortunately, this Saturday it wasn't possible, in part at least, because it was gymnastics graduation day.
Of course, they don't really "graduate". But there's a little two week break from classes and--for the first time--parents are allowed in the actual gym to watch instead of looking through the windows. Paparazzi-mom that I am, I had been looking forward to being allowed in with a camera since the start of class in January.
But, oh my, do I understand why they don't want parents in the room all the time. The combination of the Kid waking up on the wrong side of the bed and then having mom and dad to show off for....well, I think the word is "exasperating".
It makes me wonder--are all children as gifted as mine at walking right up to the line of "I'm yanking you right out of this class in front of god and whoever and we're going straight home" without actually putting a toe across it?
Because that's exactly what he did. He was bad enough to get several scoldings. ("Listen to your teachers!" "Do not throw your carpet square!") He was bad enough for a threat of not-a-single-Thomas-episode-for-the-rest-of-the-weekend. ("Do not jump in front of that sweet little girl while her mom and dad are taking pictures!") But he was not quite bad enough to just say "when" and scoop him up and leave.
So we got through the class. But, of course, once you get started down that hill of a bad day, it gets very hard to slam on the brakes. The rest of the day's orneriness was much less epic, but altogether it was enough to leave Sweet Husband and I clutching our cocktails Saturday night in a shell-shocked cuddle.
Luckily, sleep is the ultimate reset button. This morning, the demon child was gone and my sweet boy was back again. But that's one gymnastics graduation we'll remember for quite awhile.