Wow. *** Wee difficult child didn't have school Friday, so as soon as I got done with work meetings, he and I headed out to take advantage of the WONDERFUL weather we were having and go camping. We got to camp about 2:30 and set up, met some friends, played, fixed some supper over the fire. Then he put on ihs costume and we went trick or treating in town. When we finished, we stopped by a shoe store and got him a new pair of shoes (his right foot is turning in - he'll need more than shoes to fix it, but hopefully this will help a little). I needed a new pair, also, since my toes stick out of both of my shoes, and he was being SO good, so I found a new pair, too. Paid for them and went back to camp. *** Saturday was a whole different ballgame. He woke up great, but boy, by 3 or 4pm, he just exploded. Literally. I DRAGGED him to the camper, where he proceeded to hit me, kick me, throw shoes at me, bite me, and call me vulgar names. He just kept after me and after me, and finally, I spanked him in a desperate attempt to get him to stop attacking me. It worked, he then started just throwing stuff, and I was so afraid I was really gonna lost it, so I removed myself. While standing outside, calming down, he threw the contents of that camper ALL OVER THE PLACE - literally destroyed the inside. When it was over, it was like a switch was flipped again - he was done. *** Of course, there are 4 new families in the camping group, and of course, they could hear the whole thing. Nothing makes me want to be a hermit quite like having this child. *** Today, he started out this morning like he was at 3 or 4 yesterday afternoon. By 3 or 4 today, its was UGLY. Again, hit, kick, scream, bite, curse, throw. I wanted to leave camp by 11 so I could make mounted shooting practice, so I got up early and got everything ready to go - literally, was ready to jump in the truck and leave. At 10:45 I walked to the camper to hook up and leave and, again, it was literally DESTROYED. I had another fit myself - this time, I slammed down the Mason jar of canned apples I had in my hand and SHATTERD it EVERYWHERE. Somehow, I managed to not cut myself despite the fact that the jar literally was in a million pieces. *** Obviously, my fuse is getting too short. Some days I wonder how in the world I am ever going to make it thru the rest of my years with this child. One was enough; and I shudder to think that the first grandchild is on the way. *** In addition, husband went to shooting with me (which was great to have him), but that meant wee difficult child went, too. They're new people, they don't know much about us, and I was generally embarrassed all over again, having everyone stare at the freak-show child.