Be careful about complaining about a bad situation. It may just get worse.
The little "monkey girl" that I watched that climbed every. thing. in. the. house. left two weeks ago. A new little boy a month younger than she was started on Monday. There is no way to explain what I have been through this week. Every child I watch has gone home with war wounds. Most of them were just scratches--all up and down their arms or faces. One poor little boy looked like the Boston Strangler had gotten hold of him.
Karate Kid is not the most patient of kids, so I was shocked when I heard him saying in a very calm, quiet, sing-songy voice, "Ow. That hurts. Let go. Be gentle. Soft touch. Ow." He was trying every phrase he could think of to "call off the dogs." I walked in the room and saw the new little one had him by the throat and the back of his neck, fingers dug in as far into the skin as he could get them.
His best piece of work was the bite mark he left on the side of another little one's face. That was when I had HAD it! I had spent my whole week dogging this kid, hovering and calling out "Be nice" every time the poor kid moved. My house looked like a war zone because I couldn't turn my back long enough to put anything away. And cleaning? Ha! I was so wiped out from being so hypervigilant about him that all I could do was collapse when he left.
So now he has one week to improve or he's out. I'm rooting for the "out" part so I can actually breathe again. But then I'm back to the situation of trying to find someone to replace him. Hmm...less money or sanity? Not a hard choice.
5:58 PM ~