This Hurts Me More Than It Hurts You

I am living in an infinite loop of the opening of the Simpsons.  Could I be raising Bart?

Sean's difficulties on the bus continue (groan).  He gets out of his seat before the bus has come to a complete stop and also questions every rule.

For a kid that can do 3-digit multiplication in his head, why can't he get it????  Why????

I understand the whole seat thing.  He's on the bus for 45 minutes or more in the afternoon.  He's anxious to get off.  Heck, I'd be anxious, too!  But he's always in such a rush.  I can only imagine the fight he has with his self control every day as the bus turns onto our street. 

And then there are the rules.... oh, how my son dislikes rules.  He's ok with them as long as they make sense to HIS brain.  Not our brain.  His brain. 

I can tell him all sorts of things like you can't get out of your seat until the plane has parked at the gate... you can't go as fast as you want in a car just because no one is on the road.... rules are there for everyone's safety....  Nothing makes sense to him until he has processed it in his own special way. 

Right now, today, I don't think he's there yet.

Over the weekend, my husband tried something we've done before.  If Sean isn't quite "hearing" us then we'll make him write it.  Alot.  And with the increased pressure that he uses, writing is extremely physically demanding.  Hopefully, he will come away from the exercise/punishment with more than just a sore hand and arm.

I will follow all rules, sit in my seat, and not talk back to authority figures.

Fifty times.  Saturday.  Fifty times.  Sunday.

Bart Simpson writes his sentences on the chalkboard every Sunday.  Sean has his own dedicated notebook.

I'm not sure if I'm going to meet the bus this afternoon.  I generally never do.  It drops off at the end of my driveway so this helicopter mom usually lets Sean navigate the 50 feet to the front door by himself.

Should I become a "tiger mom" and get a personal report from the bus driver?  Should I trust my overly honest son to tell me if he did as he was told?

I don't know.  For now the notebook remains on the table awaiting the next fifty sentences.

I want to have faith in my son.  I want to have hope that something is making sense to him today.  I want to.  I really do.

So I will....

Or, as Bart Simpson would say, "That's the plan, man and I'm sticking to it."