No Don't Stop

Been home about an hour now. Here's tonight's tally, so far:

Number of times we've said "No" --> 57
Number of times we've said "Don't" --> 35
Number of times we've said "Stop" --> 22

Seriously? Seriously.

Because we are such conscientious parents who read all the parenting advice and listen to the parenting gurus and discuss parenting topics with all those parenting experts, we decided to try a new approach to tackling one of our most serious discipline problems. Riley? Yeah, he hits. Everybody. Everyday. Of course, we're totally glad he doesn't bite. Cause that would suck. Phew. But the hitting has got to stop.

I can't even describe for you the dread that shoots through every nerve in my body when my cell phone rings during the day and I see the words "Washington CDC." I swear out loud, then I answer the phone in the most trepidatious of voices. "Hello?" Yesterday, it was one of those calls.

"Mrs. Nix? This is Gary Winning, the director at Washington CDC? I'm calling about Riley."

Of course he is.

The school wanted me to come get Riley and take him home for hitting one friend and two teachers. It was 9 a.m. on his second day of school after nearly two weeks off. I sighed. "I understand," I said. "But I think that Riley would be thrilled to spend the day at home with mom, and can we figure out a way to not reward him for bad behavior?"

I went to the school and spoke sternly to the wiggly boy who knows all the rules forwards and backwards, but can't follow them. He didn't cry. I, of course, did. Which isn't embarrassing at all. Spent the next 45 minutes brainstorming (read: whining) with his teachers as he happily played with the little boy he smacked in the face over a coveted orange dinosaur only minutes before.

We decided to try a bribery, er, reward system. I brought happy face stickers and a special "R for Riley" notepad to school this morning. The deal is: No hitting = happy face sticker on a note from his teacher = M&Ms!! Wow! What a great idea! This will TOTALLY work.

It totally didn't.

Not only did Riley hit a friend, he lied about it, too. He seemed sad that he wouldn't get the M&Ms we so temptingly placed out in the open in a glass jar. But when Holden got his M&Ms for the night, Riley barely batted an eye. Not even a pouty lower lip. It didn't seem to hurt at all.

Epic. Fail.