Parents and Parenting: A Tale of Laughter and Sulk

I

am unable to fit completely under the bed. Well, technically I can, but only if I lie in profile, as there is not enough space for my nose. My son, on the other hand, finds my large beak amusing, as it is a genetic trait he has not inherited.

We could use a bit of laughter at the moment, as my son is once again hiding under the bed. Sometimes we witness his meltdown firsthand, while other times we only realize that he’s disappeared when we hear the thumping footsteps and the sound of a slowly closing bedroom door. He would prefer to slam the door, but it barely touches the carpet.

My son is nearly five years old now, and he is less prone to throwing tantrums that were characteristic of his toddler years. Those tantrums were intense and colorful, but now they are rare occurrences. It’s amazing to witness his growth and maturity, as he learns to share and compromise. However, he still holds certain beliefs, such as thinking all cats are female and all dogs are male. This makes his recent sulks even more challenging to witness, as they are no longer tantrums but rather grand sulks.

The triggers for these sulks are common, such as sharing, having a toy taken away by a friend, or sensing unkind treatment. Even laughter has become a sensitive subject, and mistiming a laugh in his direction feels like banishment to the depths of Bedsville.

During a visit from my in-laws, my son returned home from school with a handmade Union Jack flag. My wife, excited about his artistic creation, thought it would be funny to have him show it off to her parents. Poorly phrased, she said, “Go out to the garden and show them, they’ll laugh.” Confused, he asked, “Why would they laugh at meeeeeeee?” His voice filled with vowels as he retreated to his sulking spot, where I found him a few minutes later.

I reached in to console him, intending to hold his hand while speaking, but I could only reach his leg. So, I held onto that instead. I reassured him that no one was laughing at him and that it’s tough to feel like people don’t take you or your art seriously.

I remarked on how cozy it looked under the bed, but I couldn’t fit completely. “I’m not coming out,” he said while stifling a chuckle at his clumsy father. “All right then,” I replied, squeezing myself in alongside him and struggling to move my head. I positioned myself to face him, and he burst into laughter. “Don’t move,” he exclaimed amidst the hysterics, “you’ll hurt that gigantic nose!”

Did Ye Hear Mammy Died? by Séamas O’Reilly is out now (Little, Brown, £16.99). Buy a copy from guardianbookshop at £14.78

Follow Séamas on Twitter @shockproofbeats