Gosh my tongue is sore

I guess weekends are going to be a trial for a while to come. It is the pits when you don't agree with the method your children use to raise their kids. I'll tell you right now - my tongue is so sore from me biting it. If things don't change, I think I'll be a good candidate for a tongueectomy.

I REALLY don't agree with the way my daughter and son-in-law are raising my grandson (Monkey Boy). They have created a spoiled brat. He can do no wrong, and in his mind, "no" is not a word from him.

I have suspected that he has problems with other children. Now I am pretty sure of it. Saturday they finally (20 days late) were able to schedule the first birthday party he has ever had. His fourth birthday was on the 6th.

G and I weren't able to be there. We were in San Antonio for his aunt's funeral. I understand there were very few children from his day care class there. I have long suspected he is a little bully, since he loves to pull his kung-fu moves and other aggressive stances as part of his normal way of acting. Daddy also encourages that business.

G and I went to their house for dinner after we got home. The meal was a very balanced and healthy one. Marinated pork loin and fresh grilled (but really nearly raw) vegetables. Monkey Boy had an absolute fit. He ended up with processed chicken nuggets and Spider Man macaroni and cheese - prepared especially for him after the rest of us were eating and he threw his fit. I wanted to have a fit of my own.

After dinner, we had some left over cake from his party. He tried for a second piece. When I told him he already had a piece, he went into a rage. I was told, by him, in no uncertain terms, that I was to stay away from him. Hey, no problemo!

Last night we went out for the family to celebrate my birthday which was Saturday. It was a nightmare, but that's another story. We were seated in a large booth. I was crammed into the corner with the kids across from me. Bread was served. Both kids were seated across from me, and were my dinner companions.

Both kids were immediately given a roll. When the bread was moved down. MB grabbed another roll. It was downed in record time. He reached for a third and I told him he didn't need a third. Mom and Dad finally were aware of what he was doing. That didn't stop the tears from anger however.

This morning, K told me he found some candy and decided that was a suitable breakfast. I couldn't believe it, but is dad said no. He flipped out again. He went running into the bedroom where K was getting ready for work saying "Daddy told me no." Hey, there's a good indication there's a problem. Of course, the cereal he was told to eat wasn't much better than the candy.

He can be a sweet little boy, and according to my daughter-in-law, he can follow rules. I wish I had witnessed that.