Evening all (there used to be a series on British TV when I was a small child - will mean absolutely nothing to anyone here - called Dixon of Dock Green about an ordinary copper on the beat and he always announced "Evening all" at the beginning, in a cheery, dependable policeman kind of way. Those were the days...) Anyway, I digress... Sorry if I seem to be perserverating (fine new word learnt here) about not very much but tonight we had a little explosion that leaves me curious... something... The background: it's Wednesday which in this curious (ie different) system here means no school. In the morning J went to the activity centre where he goes and which he likes a lot (the personnel there seem great, very laid back and friendly). Picked him up in the afternoon to go to gym, which has started again. Went fine though the teacher wants to put him in the group with the 6 and 7 year olds as he thinks he needs the physical challenge. Then played a bit in the playground outside, ate some additive-filled biscuits that another mother gave him (but hey! No need to get totally controlling about these things...), then we went to the tennis lesson. This is supersports! That also went fine though J was silly beforehand with some of the other boys who were all doing the four/five year old fascination with toilet and crude language thing... Then after we came home and the boy who lives near us in the village came over to play with J. They played outside for half an hour, and it was fine. I did think, vaguely listening to them from inside, that J seems to have okay social skills in play, reasonably co-operative and flexible. Anyway, I was the Model Parent with the time warning thing - J you have ten minutes to bath, five, four, three, two, one etc when... there was indeed a rocket though this one was not from Cape Canaverel but a tiny village in the south of France. J started crying and shrieking and trying to run after the other boy, saying he was going to accompany him home. I would have let him but the boy had disappeared (he only lives 20 seconds away). Then J went into this rude/angry thing where he refused to come in and I had to pick him and carry him inside. Then he said "I'm going to break things!" and I said very crossly, "J!", at which point he backed down and started getting undressed for the bath. A few minutes later, in the way of four year olds, all was forgotten again and we had a perfectly nice, ordinary bath, supper, bed routine.. This intensity and fury... is there anything I should have done that I didn't do? Better ways to handle it?