2005-10-18, 1:28 a.m.
It's the time of year I dread, dread with a passion. It's that time when Vinny has to make the transition from shorts to pants. He never was good about transitional change, even as a toddler. I had truly hoped that he would, as he got older, adjusted to some things that are inevitable in life.
This morning he was upstairs getting ready for school and I'm downstairs in the kitchen drinking my coffee, smoking a cigarette and doing the crossword puzzle. I hear all this thrashing coming from Vinny's room. I know exactly why...but try to get myself composed so as not to bash his head in.
A few minutes pass and he's still up doing his seasonal routine. I go up the steps and ask him if he is insane? He says, "no", between tears. I then ask if he wants a Therapist because he obviously doesn't realize he's crazy to be acting like that over having to put long pants on.
He pulls his pants out and shows me that they are to big in the waist. I explained to him that these are the pants he wanted, that he didn't want the pants with the adjustable waist bands and that he should just put a belt on. He then complains about having to wear a belt. At this point I'm really frustrated with him and his behavior and yell, "I can't help it your so damn skinny!" and left his room.
A few minutes later he comes downstairs dressed and he's crying not out of anger but sadness. I ask him what's wrong and he tells me that the kids at school make fun of him for being skinny and so white (he has a very fair complexion).
I wanted to cry for him and beat the shit out of every single child he made him feel so crappy.
So, I've come home from work, and went upstairs to give him lots of kisses and whisper how much I love him.
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