The tree got the brunt of it!
Unfortunately it was one of those scenarios where he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He didn’t do anything, except stand upright in his normal way and sparkle and shine his decorations. It was just bad luck that one second he was upright and the next he was face planting the carpet.
The Gruffalo was to blame. Eight repetitions of The Gruffalo to be exact! Probably seven times too many!
I know my error as soon as my words of “Last Go” and “All finished” had been ignored. The over stimulation of an electronic flashing screen had resulted in an immediate drop to the floor and a scream a deducible too high.
I clasped my hands over my ears in the same way my son does when it is too much to handle.
It was too much to handle!
I watched my son scream the words “Gruffalo, Gruffalo, Gruffalo” over and over again, knowing we had passed the line, and it was just a matter of waiting it out.
He started running back and forth towards an irrelevant destination. Frantic that the bright-image-presenting box was now a blank screen and his head remained full of want.
I sat there supporting his situation. Cuddles available for when he was ready to accept them, and friendly comforting words constantly coming from my mouth.
It happened so quickly.
I turned for a second and out of the corner of my eye I saw it evolve one frame at a time. The tree fell forward in slow motion, its tinsel in tact while the star and baubles clung on for dear life. Once it was over I looked to my son. Rhys stood with the evidence of two baubles in his hand. He had been caught in the act of destruction.
But a fallen tree does not bring back the Gruffalo, and in my head, I knew we just had to push past and let the meltdown subside. So I sat on the carpet repeating “Rhys, it is going to be ok” and offering cuddles, which just got constantly rejected.
It took an hour. But we both got through it. A lesson learnt. A new plan to be formulated going forward.
I made the wrong choice today. Day one of isolation was always going to be a steep learning curve, and trying to work full time, while occupying a six year old was always going to have its compromises. However six hours straight of the Gruffalo is not the solution.
I know that now.
Only nine days to go.
At least this time (unlike March) I have an end date in mind.
Suggestions and options for telly-free entertainment gladly accepted.
I think I need all the help I can get!