"Mama Said There'll Be Days Like THIS..."

My apologies to the Shirelles for deliberately capping out the last word of their lyric.
I couldn't help it, I'm having a day!
When I was a kid, I remember my mother saying to her friends, while rolling her eyes, "Oh, I'm having a DAY!", they looked like they understood her very well.  Although I had no idea what she was talking about because that statement typically followed a day of screaming, threats, crying, and door slamming; and, finally, the good old, penultimate statement so universal that even Television Shows have been named, "You just wait until your father gets home!", sniffle, stomp, SLAM!! You get the picture.
Sadly, I now must cop to understanding that comment far better than I ever cared to. It means, "I have kids, I hate what they're doing, they aren't getting along, they don't listen to a thing I say, I have to go home now, cook my husband's dinner which isn't even defrosted yet (it WAS the 60s, but I'm not sure in reality things are all that different now, our husbands are just more frightened than controlling. At least my husband has absolutely no expectations!) the house is a wreck, and, I really, really want to take a damn shower!"
During the past two weeks, my four year old grandson, the one with all of the 'delays', found his four.
It came as quite a shock to my husband, me and his teachers, because it came in the package of sudden full sentences, clearly articulated and generally beginning with the word, no; and until we kept him home from school one day because he'd refused to take a bath for going on ten days. the threat didn't make him bathe, he just said, "NO, I don't want to take a bath, so I'm not gonna, here are my jamas, put em on me.". The following morning as the little lord was being dethroned, he was positively apoplectic when he realized that no temper tantrum, no matter how loud the screeching, was going to get him tossed into that car and dropped off at school. That night, Caleb took a bath, and though triumphant, I suddenly knew with great certainty that it was just beginning, and then I got nauseous.
A couple of nights ago,  when I asked him if he liked his dinner, something that I often ask him after the third or fourth consecutive day of eating the same thing at his own insistence, hoping that he will actually say no, so that we can then work something else out; his response was a clear, specific, "NO, it was too hot.". Very firm, that was that, and he wasn't discussing it any further, he is surprisingly laissez faire in his adamance and I have no idea what that indicates.
I admit to having pondered how it is that I've managed to maintain the idealism that I still seem to have despite raising five children who were much like what I am currently seeing in Caleb, and for the life of me, I can't remember what I did!  It must have been deeply traumatic for me because I think that I cried a lot. However, while doing my pondering, I did begin remembering what his mother was like, and ended up putting my head between my legs to make the faint feeling pass. That little trick really works, in case you ever need it.
When I talked to his teacher about this behavior, she was very calm about all of it, saying to me, "Oh yes, he does that here too, he won't participate in the goodbye circle and he has a little gang of boys who hide under the sand table with him while we're doing it, we're currently ignoring him". I quickly looked beneath the sand table and there they were, the four of them, huddled closely together with their backs to the wall and their little sneakers tucked in tightly. While Caleb instructed them to be quiet and "mebbe they won see you". I think that they speak to one another in some alien language too.
So, after breaking this pre-school cabal up with the help of the other boys mothers, I had to do the Mommy drag with him through the parking lot to the car, primarily because I refuse to bribe this kid in any way, especially not with lollypops which are commonly used by the other mothers to get their kids to buckle up.
I refuse to bribe on principle, but I also do it because based upon the kitchen cabinet doors that his testosterone prevents him from closing after he has finished sneaking whatever he wants into his playroom when I'm not looking, lollypops are just going to cost me more money at the dentist, not that I mind, the cavitys need filling.  However, no one in my family was ever accused of having strong tooth enamel, and he is among that group, so it's going to cost me anyway. Still, on principle, just no, I can refuse to do things too!
Today hasn't been intolerable, I will say that when I arrived 20 minutes early at his school to pick him up, the door opened almost immediately and one of his teachers was doing the Mommy drag with him to my car. So much for 20 free minutes to read. She didn't look too happy. So, rather than ask about it, I just opened the door and let her hustle him into his booster seat (which he is also suddenly questioning the necessity of), said thanks, and drove away.
Today's answer to my usual, "what'ja do in school today", was his first "uh, nuthin", and with that I was suddenly slammed with a barrage of memories, along with flashes of future afternoons when the answer would be a quick and quiet, "Got suspended"; or on occasional Saturday nights when the phone will ring, and, if he's anything like his mother and her sisters, he'll say "Uh cin you come an get me?" and my next question will be "how much is the bail?", instead of, "Where are you?".
On the upside, I'm getting better at not sputtering laughter in my shock, and, at least now I know that I'll have to go and see what he's doing when things get too quiet.