One Letter

Brandon was in big trouble last night and this morning.  I told him he could have one more candy then the rest of the Halloween stash was going to be donated.  He fished out one single tootsie roll pop.  I praised him for making such a good choice; it was the perfect size for him, and it was a chocolaty, which he likes.  I had made the mistake of walking away when he was choosing said candy, but I put that out of my mind, wanting to put some trust in him.  Since he had made such a great choice, I told him I’d give him another piece, since he had wanted to try another type of candy, but chose the former instead.  He was excited! 
Later, Dave was looking for Peyton’s cup in the dining room, and as soon as he turned the light on, Brandon ran over to the area and took something.  Dave questioned him further and found that Brandon had stashed a second piece of candy.  Dave marched him right upstairs to me to have Brandon tell me what he had done.  I had a talk with him about making good choices, and he started crying, because he knew he had done something wrong.  I asked him what he thought I should do now, with the two pieces that I had saved for him.  He started crying harder because he knew that the consequences of his actions were going to mean not eating some (or both) of the pieces he had saved.  I let him think about what he wanted to do overnight, since Sunday he had already had birthday cake. 
This morning, Brandon stayed home to go to a doctor’s appointment with Dave.  He’s been itchy, and we thought it was related to the grass.  He started crying when he found a drawing he had done on the ground.  The picture had two stick figure people with two smiley faces.  One was a little bigger than the other. He wouldn’t use any words, just crying.  It was more of a fake cry, because periodiocally, he’d stop cold and say, “What, Mommy?” while I was trying to talk to him and he couldn’t hear me over his crying.  He grabbed his pencil and started writing underneath the people.  “B-a-d”.  I read the word aloud.  “Bad?”  Who is bad?  He started crying more, then spelled out “d”, then “a” then “b” but in the proper order, spelling out “B-a-d” but writing it from right to left.  He cried more, when I said “Bad? Who’s bad?”  Then he started writing his name, then started erasing the whole thing.  Since it was time for me to take Peyton to school (Peyton, by the way, was observing the whole scene, saying, “Bruddah, sad, bruddah, sad,” while making her sign for sign on her cheek,) I told Dave he had to talk to him and figure out what was going on. 
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The pediatrician thought Brandon had a reaction to his school’s grass, and treated him like it was poison oak, giving him methylprednisolone, an oral steroid, which we’ve never given him before.  I was a little worried about giving him a steroid, especially since we wouldn’t be watching him.  I hope it doesn’t make him more hyper or keep him up at night!  I guess we’d better give it to him in the morning.  The pedi said we’d be surprised how well it works.  Brandon is definitely more allergenic than Peyton.  If it happens again, we may need allergy testing!  Ai-yah.