I had a thread about him not so long ago -
made the mistake though of posting in AIBU where I attracted the attention of a troll who kept telling me I’m a shit mother, so I’m hoping for a more gentle response here!
DC is second of three but has been like this since before no. 3 was born. Just incredibly destructive and difficult. It’s hard to think of any aspect of our lives he doesn’t manage to make harder in some way.
Tonight I’ve gone into the bedroom he shares with my eldest DC because I could see the big night light was on (he’d climbed up on the glider chair to turn it back on after I’d switched it off) to find him curled up on the rug next to his bed, surrounded by the shredded remains of the books he’d ripped to pieces before falling asleep. I realised once I’d picked up all the pieces on the floor that there were loads missing, went back in to look for the rest and found them all stuffed under his pillow.
7 acorn wood books plus my eldest son’s favourite train book - over £60 in total. He’s gone through each book, page after page and torn out the lift-up flaps in every single one. Just destroyed. I’ve no idea why and there probably won’t be any point talking to him tomorrow as I doubt he’ll even remember.
I love him so much, but sometimes I really fucking hate him too.