"Leave me alone!"

In following the counsel of our church leaders, Coralee and I decided we will spend Sunday evenings with each of our children, on an individual basis, and have an opportunity to discuss things that are important to them. This time is set aside, ideally, without interruption and it gives the children the individual attention they seek and/or deserve. We began this time with our youngest and moved our way up the ladder.

We invited Karissa into the den. She played with some toys and told us all about them, "car.......car.......Thomas.......train......Thomas." She gave each of us a hug and a kiss and when her time with us was over, she happily went to bed.

Matthew was very anxious to spend time with us. He told us about his day and the things he played with. He giggled often and told us he knew how to use the potty. We mentioned things that he will get to do next year with preschool. He smiled and said, "yes, cause I'm big!"

"Yes you are," we exclaimed. Hugs and kisses were shared and off to bed he went.

Rachel shortly thereafter joined us. (She actually made an attempt to join us multiple times. We had to chase her out of the den so that Matthew and Karissa's time was not compromised).

Rachel is very affectionate. She would take turns sitting on each of our laps. She would look directly into our eyes and would smile. "Do you like preschool," we asked.

"Yes!"

"Do you like playing with your friends?"

"Yes! And, when I get big, I'm going to get married."

"Who do you think you will marry.?"

She spent some time thinking about it and claimed "Carter" as her own. Apparently, he is the popular, handsome kid in town. (I'll have to invite him into my den at a later date and quiz him on proper dating etiquette.)

"He's nice, isn't he?"

"Uh huh!"

"When can we do this again," she asked.

"We'll do this again on Sunday."

She was escorted to her room and tucked into bed. She expressed her love and quietly went to sleep.

Nathan was next. He was very pleasant. He sat reverently and readily provided information about his life. With him, school is going great. He takes pride in being the peacemaker in our family. He is thrilled with his reading abilities and agreed to try harder by getting along with his siblings. He told us more about what he wanted for his birthday and reflected on being a second grader in a few months.

"Love you, Nate!"

"Love you too!" And off he went.

Bryson joined us, after some persuasion. This is where the excitement about hanging with Mom and Dad began to deteriorate.

He sat in the swivel chair before us. He immediately began spinning around.

"Bryse, can you stop spinning in the chair, please, so we can talk?"

"Why do I have to?"

"Because (one) we're getting dizzy, and (B) it doesn't show respect."

"Gaaaahhh! This is stupid!"

The chair stopped spinning, and he pulled his legs up. He ducked his head and looked up over his eyebrows. He tried to hold a serious face to show is annoyance.

"Why do we have to do this?"

"This is a good opportunity to just talk about you and what's important to you."

"Nothing's important!"

"How is school?"

"It's stupid!"

"You had a great report card this semester. We're very proud of you and your accomplishments."

"Yeah....you owe me money!"

"You're right."

He softened a little bit, but with a kick of his legs, the chair spun around again.

"Bryson. Show Mom and Dad some respect and stop spinning in the chair."

"Okay!"

After a few minutes of discussion, things were going along more smoothly, albeit the chair movement was addressed multiple times.

"Bryson, we'd like you to teach the lesson tomorrow for Family Night. Can you teach a lesson on Joseph Smith's First Vision?"

"I guess so."

"Well, we're proud of you and we love you."

"I love you too."

"Goodnight!"

"Goodnight."

And then came the last meeting of the night. What was going to be a 15 minute discussion turned into a rather painful hour for all of us.

Because of the swivel chair dilemma with Bryson, I decided I would sit in the swivel chair for our time with Jeff.

Before he entered the room, I spun around a couple of times on the chair. This really is fun! I hope I can sit still for this.

"How are things going with you, Jeff?"

"Pretty good."

Things started out well. When the subject matter moved to school, choir practice and family goals, his legs moved up to hide his face and he no longer looked at us. He was in a fetal position; tucked in tightly like a ball. His hands explored the desk next to him so he could find something to distract his attention from the matter at hand.

He became very unresponsive.

I tried to ease the tension, so I started singing, "If you're happy and you know it, put a grin on your face!"

He smiled, but then sprung from the chair and retreated downstairs.

Coralee and I looked at each other, wondering what had happened. After a minute or two, I went downstairs looking for him. I could hear him moving, like a cat, from room-to-room, but I couldn't locate him. I peered into his bedroom; under the bed and in the closet. Nothing.

I walked through the bathroom, pulled back shower curtains. Nothing.

I re-traced my steps and checked in the family room downstairs. Nothing.

I made my way back upstairs, but realized he hadn't gone that way. I went back downstairs and saw the door at the bottom move slightly. I pulled it open, and there he was.

"Jeff, we're not done. Let's go back upstairs."

He sprinted up the stairs, went into the bathroom and slammed the door. I tried opening the door. Locked.

"Jeff, come out please."

He opened the door and tried to move past me. I put my hand on his shoulder so we could walk together back into the den. "Don't touch me! Leave me alone!" His movement was a quick, rapid and violent turn. He faced me with fire in his eyes; his fists and teeth clenched.

My initial, internal reaction, was to grab him by the back of the neck and send him flying into the den. My tension level was extremely high. Something told me to settle down. I quickly swallowed the anger and said, "Jeff, we need to get through this."

He returned to his seat, sat down and panted. I was afraid he was going to turn into a Werewolf right then and there. Was it a full moon?

Everything we said at that point was countered with anger. I don't know how Coralee and I were so calm during this event. I'm generally not a patient person.

"Jeff, can you tell us what's wrong?"

"No! I don't know what's wrong." Those are hormones, my friend. Welcome to puberty, I thought. Welcome to the next phase of parenthood, I told myself.

Eventually, Jeff settled down. We discussed things. The pant and the fangs went away, and he once again resembled our son.

"Good night Jeff. We love you."

"Good night."