Our neighbors have two young children: a toddler boy named James Michael and his little sister. I don't know anyone's name, other than James Michael's, and I only know his because when his mom or dad mean business, they say, "James Michael, come here now."
I saw mom and her kids today at Target. James Michael happily clutched a new toy, and mom gave me a little smile. Her boy wasn't having a meltdown, which surprised me because he loses his mind at least three times a day. James Michael wakes up cranky and irritated with the world. He only calms down when breakfast appears. Nap time presents an even greater challenge because, as unhappy as he is to wake up in the morning, he's even madder at the prospect of going back to sleep in the afternoon. After 10 minutes or so of howling, he passes out.
I think James Michael has issues with transitions. I can relate.
The third daily meltdown occurs at the dinner table. This one is pure mischief. Mom and dad frequently entertain. More evenings than not, the candles and grill are both lit, and all of the military kids are expected -- kindly and with a great deal of patient assistance -- to sit down and eat using their table manners. James Michael does fine with this until he can't take it any longer and stabs someone with his corn cob holder.
Successful meltdown number three.
I know so much about this family because, like us, they leave all of their windows open and eat three meals a day outside.
As I think about this, I realize James Michael's parents must think my name is "cute woman" and that my husband's name is "Matt?" They know by now that we love football, classical music, and that we genuinely believe we are hilarious. Oh, and that we are obsessed with stars and birds.
I hope, dear God, that they aren't counting my meltdowns.
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