I've often said that children aren't really "stressful" -- very annoying sometimes, but not truly stressful. Then I amend that to exclude Gabriel's toddlerhood, which often was truly stressful and had us wondering if we'd done the wrong thing.
But now, sometimes Julian's 5-year-old-ness is approaching stressful too. This is definitely not the best place in his life. The putzing around in the morning, the complaining, the disobedience (modern parenting parlance calls that "not listening," but it's really the same thing), the rudeness -- still just "very annoying." But the constant pestering of Katrina is bordering stressful.
This afternoon, despite strict orders not to touch it when Katrina is near, Julian again closed the heavy 4'x8' backyard sliding door on her hand, claiming he didn't know she was there. Never mind that they were facing each other inches apart, and that she was shrieking in pain as the door pressed against her soft little fingers. I was so upset I was almost in tears. In shaking half-whispered tones, I ordered him to his room until dinner, clutching my wailing baby. For once, he didn't hurl back insolent remarks or throw himself on the floor with a fabricated injury, and instead he quickly and silently retreated to his room.
I can't wait until 5 is over.
Tonight Katrina said out of the blue at dinner, "I want Bonne Maman and Papa Paul!"