⇾ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 | 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈

𝙸𝙸

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚘 → 𝙼𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝙼𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚃𝚘𝚞𝚛

⊹ 𝟿-𝟷𝟷-𝟷𝟿𝟼𝟽 ⊹

"Julian...honey, you have to put pants on," I said, feeling utterly defeated as he kicked his legs again, shouting about how much he really didn't want to wear pants. "Come on, Uncle Paul will be here soon to get us. You don't want to make him wait, do you?"

Julian stopped kicking to think about the statement, and while there was calm, I quickly slipped his pants on him.

And that's when the crying started.

I had heard people talk about the "terrible twos"...but what about the "foul fours"? Maybe I'd never heard it because that was a term that I had just invented to describe my son, but I didn't see why no one else had invented it before me! Julian's second year on earth was a walk in the damned park compared to this year. This year was the year of defiance. This year was the year that he took every single rule I gave him and threw it out the fucking window. This year was the year that I'd officially go crazy.

"Having trouble?" John appeared in the room behind me, remarkably sober—for now, at least.

Today was the start of filming for the Beatles' third movie, Magical Mystery Tour. The whole concept of the film seemed a bit strange to me, or just like some bad LSD trip, but I didn't have the guts to question it. They were the Beatles, the biggest band in the damn world. You didn't question them.

"Definitely not!" I responded exasperatedly.

"Well...alright, then." And he left the room again. I turned around in shock. Seriously? I rolled my eyes and turned back around. "Julian, stop crying," I said, reaching down to pick him up from where he was lying on his bed. That way was about the only way I could get him to let me dress him.

He continued to cry anyway. "Julian," I repeated agitatedly. "Please, calm down. We need to be leaving soon!"

"Hey, Jules!" John was back in the room. He appeared over my shoulder, waving to get Julian's attention. "Uncle Paul's here and he doesn't want to see you if yer gonna be actin' like this," John said sternly. "So, dry your eyes so he'll like ye again."

Julian's crying finally halted, and I let out a deflated sigh. How in the world was John so good at calming him down and I wasn't? The little boy heaved in a few breaths to try and control his lungs again, and then he reached out for John. John took him from me and left the room. Once again, I felt defeated, and I collapsed onto Julian's bed, cradling my head in my hands. It was times like these where I doubted my parenting abilities. Four damn years and I still couldn't control him. I felt like a complete and utter failure.