Read Online Mummy Told Me Not to Tell by Cathy Glass - Free Book Online Page A

clothes from his wardrobe, I repeated the instructions again. He still didn’t answer, so I explained again what I wanted him to do. Then I switched off the television. As soon as the screen went blank Reece jumped up from the beanbag and began stamping on the piles of small toys that littered the entire floor.
    ‘No, Reece,’ I said. ‘You will break them.’ I knelt down and, taking him gently by the arm, drew him down beside me. ‘The first thing we are going to do is put these toys back into their boxes so they don’t get broken,’ I said, and I began putting them away. Reece was beside me watching. Then as I leant forward to retrieve another toy, hoping he would follow suit, he cuffed the back of my head with his open hand. ‘No, Reece,’ I said. I took hold of his hand and directed it again to the toys on the floor.
    ‘Want me breakfast now!’ he yelled.
    ‘You will have breakfast as soon as we have cleared away and got you dressed,’ I said.
    ‘Want it now,’ he yelled and went to cuff my head again. I took his hand and drew it once more towards the toys.
    ‘You will have breakfast as soon as we have cleared up and got you dressed,’ I repeated.
    Eventually he realized I wasn’t going to give in and that if he helped me to clear away it would complete the task and get him what he wanted that much quicker. Suddenly he started grabbing handfuls of toys and throwing them into the boxes, so that very soon the floor was clear.
    ‘Well done,’ I said. ‘Excellent! Now get dressed. Then we can have breakfast.’
    I had already taken out clean joggers, sweatshirt, vest, pants and socks, and placed them on the chair ready for him to dress himself.
    Reece looked at them. ‘No!’ he yelled. ‘Can’t!’ which I had more or less guessed.
    ‘All right, I’ll teach you how to dress yourself, and won’t you feel good when you can?’ I smiled bravely, knowing that achieving this task was probably going to be no easier than the last of clearing away his toys, or any other task, come to that. It seemed that Reece was so used to not doing things, either because he couldn’t or didn’t want to, that his first response to any request was either ‘can’t’ or ‘won’t’.
    ‘No,’ he yelled again. ‘Can’t!’
    ‘I’m sure you can,’ I said evenly. ‘You are very clever. And, Reece, try not to shout, love. I can hear you just as well when you talk quietly. OK, love?’ There were so many issues with Reece that I was having to addressthem one at a time. Certainly, while the continuous shouting, or rather ‘voice modulation’ as it’s correctly termed, needed to be addressed, it wasn’t as much of a priority as his biting, head-butting or running berserk around the house.
    ‘Now, take off you pyjama bottoms,’ I encouraged, ‘and put on your pants.’ I held up his pants ready, but he stood helplessly waiting for me to do it.
    ‘Can’t,’ he said with slightly less volume, now sulking.
    ‘Try,’ I said. ‘I’m sure you can.’
    ‘Can’t,’ he said again and made no attempt. ‘You do it, cow!’
    ‘Reece,’ I cautioned, ‘please don’t use that word. It’s rude.’
    ‘Cow,’ he said again. He crossed his arms and stood glaring at me defiantly.
    I remained where I was, a short way in front of him, still holding his pants. ‘Take off your pyjama bottoms and put on your pants.’ I repeated. ‘Do you want me to leave the room while you do it?’ I didn’t think it was modesty that was stopping him, for he hadn’t been self-conscious at bath time the night before.
    He shook his head. There was an impasse for a good two minutes when Reece continued with his arms folded and glowered at me menacingly, while I stood relaxed and outwardly at ease, holding his pants out ready for him, as though waiting for Reece to get dressed was of no great importance and I had all the time in the world. For as the evening before when I had wanted him to go for a walk, if he saw my request was