Professor Fizzwizzle

Last night Ezra* played a demo version of Professor Fizzwizzle, a computer game that involves logic and puzzle-solving. There was a limited offering of what he could do, since it was just a free download, and when he'd finished with it I told him it was time for dinner. Isis* and I were in the kitchen chopping bell peppers and cooking pasta according to her directions.  Ezra had a melt-down, including screaming and fists.

Was this just a case of bad behavior? Or was it an instance wherein he didn't understand what it was that I wanted and was so frustrated he just lost it? Are they one and the same? It was hard to keep my cool, when he was insistently asking the same questions and using the same arguments over and over. Even if Ezra knows I won't change my mind, he grasps onto this incessant badgering like a lifeline. He seems almost desperate to make me feel as freaked out as he feels.  

He flipped again when it came to what we were having for dinner, even though he'd helped make it, and almost refused to eat it. However, it turned out to actually be really delicious and I was generous with my praise for their efforts. He tried a bite and sweetly said, "Oh, you're right."

They were wired and didn't go to bed until midnight. At some point I told them that I just couldn't stay up any longer, that as long as their teeth were brushed and they'd done their "final pees" (right before bed) that they could stay up and play and come to bed when they were ready. This is a new system I've started for nights when forcing them to sleep would be useless and a waste of energy. I climbed into bed with a glass of water and The Master and Margarita, and they came trotting in about ten minutes later. It took them another twenty minutes to settle down, select their books, arrange their animals, chat about what books their animals wanted to read, get back up to turn the lights off they left on, and finally slide under the covers. Still, that's half an hour that I didn't have to stand there like a fire-breathing gorgon insisting that they hurry up and just go to bed already. 

"Mama, will you tell me a story?" Ezra asked. "Make it a good one."

"Okay Little Bear, let me think of a good one," I put my arm around him and promptly went to sleep.