Jumoke had gone potty on my bedroom floor. He came to me in a panic saying that he had but he didn't know how it happened.  I decided this was a battle I wasn't willing to fight at the moment, so just told him we'd deal with it later, but needed to clean it up now.

A few hours later we were getting ready to go to town to do some shopping.  The other children were out in the van waiting, so I had a private talk with Jumoke.

"I don't care how it happened that you went potty on my floor, but it won't happen again.  It makes my room smell bad and I don't want to sleep in a smelly room. If it happens again, we will have to move your bed out of our room and keep our room off limits to you," I said.

We had moved his mattress into our room a few days before to get him out of the boys' room. Almost all of the tormenting of the boys was happening in their room. We thought if he were sleeping in our room and had his stuff in our room that we could cut down greatly on the impact of the other boys.

He was thrilled about sleeping in our room.  We did not have enough room in our house for him to have his own room without having him sleep clear at the other end of the house, and that wasn't acceptable to us for a number of reasons.  Threatening to remove him from our room upset him.

"I don't know how it happened. I told you!" he said. "I think when I wet my bed last night it dripped onto the floor."

The size and location of the puddle made it clear that that could not have been the case.

"I don't care how it happened," I said. "I don't care if you are guilty or innocent, if you did it purposely or accidentally. If it happens again, you will not be sleeping in our room," I said.

"Yes, Mom," he said.

"Are you upset?" I asked.

"Not really," he said.

"Good," I said. "That's how things should be discussed. Lay it out, everyone understands, no one gets mad, everyone moves on."

I gave him a half-hug and we walked out to the van together. He seemed chipper and calm.

I didn't even get the car started before he began.

"How long am I going to be at Aunt Alex's?" he asked.

"About 1 month," I said.

"One month!" he said, like he was surprised.

"Yes. But you already knew that. I told you that yesterday, and asked if you were ok with that. If you were a little scared. And you told me that you were fine with it," I said.

"I didn't know how long a month was," he said.

"Yes, you did. I told you how many days and that we would see you in June when we met at the beachhouse."

"I don't think you should send me."

"Why not? You were very excited to go yesterday."

"I'm not today."

"Well, you already said yes, and I told Aunt Alex, so you are going to go."

"I changed my mind."

"I haven't changed mine. And we are not going to be rude to Aunt Alex and tell her no after we told her yes."

"You could call her and tell her no."

"I'm not going to.  You want me to be rude to Aunt Nicole?"

All of this going on in a light, kind of bantering conversation.

"Yes," Jumoke said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I just changed my mind," he said.

By this time, we had arrived at the store and I turned around to look at him. He had that excited grin on his face and I realized I'd just been taken again.

"Look," I said, calmly but firmly, "You are going to Aunt Alex's house for a month.  You can kick, scream, cry, pinch, or bite all the way to the car, but I am going to buckle you in the car and Daddy is going to take you to Aunt Alex's house."

"You would really put me in the car if I was doing all that?"

"Absolutely. Now get out of the van. We are going into the store."

The other children headed off to the toy aisle.  Jumoke isn't allowed to go with them because he will not obey me if he isn't right under my nose.  He tried to bring up the subject of going to Aunt Alex's a couple more times, but I brushed it off.

"You're going. Period. Now what do you think about this blue for the placemats?"

"You're going.  Can you reach that basket for me?"

"You're going.  Put this in the basket there."

He finally became quiet for a few moments while we were in the office supplies aisle. The out of the blue:

"Why can't I have the deoderant Aunt A and Uncle S gave me?"

"What deoderant?"

"The deoderant they gave me when I was at their house last summer."

"Daddy and I don't think you need deoderant. You were only 7."

"I want it back."

"You can't have it back."

"Why?"

"We threw it away."

"What?!"

"We told you that you didn't need it then. Why act so surprised."

"Uncle S let's N'anel have some and he's younger than me."

"Uncle S is N'anel's father and makes good decisions for N'anel.  Daddy is your father and makes good decisions for you."

"I can't believe you threw it away! You should get me another one to replace it."

"No."

He continued to chatter about the deoderant. I caught on. We had switched from Aunt Alex to the deoderant since I wasn't giving him appropriate feedback about Aunt Alex.  The conversation continued for a bit more, with his arguing and my consistent "No" with no elaboration on my part.

Finally I tired of it. I wanted it to stop. We had reached the luggage area where we were going to buy a very large suitcase for Jumoke to pack his things in.  He was so excited to have a suitcase of his very own.

"Look. I'm not discussing this further and neither are you. If you want to continue discussing things I've already told you no about, I will buy you this fine pink Cinderella suitcase. If you want to be quiet and trust my decisions, then you can trust me to pick out a big, fine manly black suitcase. What will it be?"

He was quiet for a moment, thinking. He glared at me. Then he relented.  We bought the large black suitcase, and I heard no more from him.

I felt so good that I hadn't let him get to me and that probably for the first time in four years, I had "won" in Jumoke's eyes. I had proven that I was indeed in control of the situation and I could be trusted...even if it were just for 5 minutes.

When we got home, I told Tim about the conversation, and Tim took Jumoke to task for treating his mother that way.

Jumoke was furious with me for telling, tho I had told Jumoke that there would be no more secrets, that all the adults in his life would be privy to the same information.

He refused to talk to me for the rest of the evening, and reverted to his constant "What" or mumbles when he had to reply.  He said he didn't remember a number of things that I thought for sure he should remember since they were things we had talked about in the last few days.  He said that I said many things that I knew he himself had said. I was getting confused.

Which finally clued me in.

"Do you not want to talk to me?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"Are you tired?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"You just want me to leave?" I asked. We were having a bedtime chat.

"Yes," he said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I don't trust you anymore. You told Daddy," he said.

"Yes, I did. Remember, I said there would be no more secrets kept from the adults in your life?  I meant it."

"I dont' want to talk to you," he said.

I kissed him goodnight and left the room.