I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later but I wasn't prepared for it to happen today. Delaney attacked Waylon when I wasn't in the room. He was sleeping so I'd put him down in his crib in the bedroom that they share. Delaney was in the same room, looking out the window, watching Roger do yard work. I left the room for less than a minute and before I could return I heard a shriek from Waylon unlike anything I'd heard from him up until that point. I ran into the room and Delaney was looking at me and yelling, "I scratched him! I scratched him!" Poor Way was frantically screaming and on his little face appeared angry red lines from his forehead to diagonally down across his cheek. I scooped him up and tried to keep my composure as I talked to Delaney but the tears began streaming down my sleep-deprived face and I knew I was in no condition to handle her outburst so I ran outside and got Roger. He talked to her about her behavior and took away two of her favorite toys and gave her a time out as punishment. When she came out she apologized to me and Way but she didn't seem that bothered by what she'd done.
This attack must have been building in her for a while. Roger and I have been blown away at how well she's handled Waylon's addition to our family since his birth. Although she's started having some discipline issues with us that have escalated over the last week, until today she'd been nothing other than sweet and loving to her little brother. Minutes before the incident she and I were cuddling after I'd put him in the crib and things seemed great. But, yesterday she did have a pretty big meltdown after her nap--I'd even call it a tantrum which is something she's never had before--and that probably should have been my cue to pay even more attention to her. As Roger reminded me, this has been a stressful week for all of us, especially her and she's handled things incredibly well.
Still, I had no idea that I could feel such fury at my firstborn when she attacked her little brother. I was worried for him and angry at her. Yet, at the same time my heart broke for her because I knew that for her to act that way, she's feeling quite a bit of pain and she's not sure how to deal with it. Am I doing a good enough job helping her understand this big change in her life? I thought I was. I thought we were. Now, I'm not so sure. I'm not necessarily blaming myself because I know that lots of kids go through this when they get a sibling. But I thought she was doing really well. I'm not sure how I could have been so wrong. And now I'm afraid to leave her alone, even for a second, with the little boy she calls, "My precious baby."