I Hate Everything

He's an animal!

I went through four bed side lamps in the last year. My first lamp was a high priced beauty from Target. Foreseeing the future destruction, I bought its successors from a thrift store around the corner. Surprisingly, nice looking lamps at the thrift store, although they are much more elaborate than lamps at Target, are comparable in price. Since I hope to not grow any attachment to the lamp, expecting it to fall way to my barbaric child, I buy the cheapest lamp available.
I reprimand George in the traditional avenue; timeout, deep breath, try not to hit my child. Then, I clean the mess, get George from time out, and give him the attention he craved when he ran at my bedside table and ferociously swept the lamp on the floor.
When George gets wound up in a tizzy he likes to tell me how much he hates everything. In a deep football player hut-hut-hike voice he says, "I hate!" George learned the word hate from a short phase Kingsley went through after starting preschool. He noticed our reaction to her; we'd gasp, and say, "Noooo!"
I tamed my reaction to George, thinking he will be unimpressed by my less dramatic disapproval. I calmly say to him, "George, we don't say that word."
He loves to tell me how much he hates everything when he is HANGRY; hungry-angry. A vicious cycle George gets caught up in because he is too wild to sit down and eat, and then when he is past the point, he lacks the know-how eating food will help him. He is pissed from not eating, and then too pissed to eat.
I dangle food in front of him trying to entice him to consume a first bite, hoping it will trigger a desire to eat more. Each bite I put in front of him as he angrily storms around the house, he swooshes away, telling me he hates it.
"Hey George, why don't you try this delicious turkey?"
"I HATE turkey!"
"Eat some of this nice ripe avocado, it's so delicious."
"I HATE avocado."
"How about a cheeto? You want a cheeto?"
"I HATE cheeto!"
"George, how can you say you hate cheetos? Sacrilege!"
I get his appetite going by giving him a Jelly Bean because he can't say no to sugar. Then he calms down, and will come around to macaroni and cheese, a favorite on his very short list of foods he will eat.
A couple years ago my cousin told me about her 3 year old nephew's affinity for shouting, "I hate daddy!" At the time, I was childless, and had not been around children, or even held a baby in my adult life, but I felt like I had a good grasp of the situation.

I affirmed, "His mom must tell your brother that she hates him in front of him. How sad. Their family life seems tragically messy."

Fast forward to now, when my 2 year old has developed a real love for throwing the "hate" word around. I don't ever say hate around the kids because I'm trying to lead by example.
I am eating crow, cleaning up broken lamp, and listening to my toddler tell me how much he hates everything.

The latest monstrosity looks indestructible