Too Much Testosterone?

Is there any such thing as the terrible fives? Doug turns five in a week, and I'm afraid for us, if this week is a preview of the coming year.

He was sick last week and milked that to it's very last drop. He even told me, "I like being sick, Mommy. I get chicken noodle soup and I get to sleep in your chair."

That's not the problem-- that part was cute. The problem is that either the cold meds he's been taking have brought out the monster in him, or he just is becoming a monster. I'm hoping for the first one.

For example, Mike was looking at a kaleidescope and Doug ran over and hit the kaleidescope into his eye-- just to see what would happen. I'll tell you what happens: a shiner.

He a Mike were playing with super-hero action figures in their room and suddenly, I hear wailing. Coming from the BIG brother. Again.

Mike was playing with Hulk and Doug decided to make Thing jump on his fingers as hard as he could to see if they'd break. Luckily, they didn't. Mike's patience with Doug is about to. So is mine.

He jumped on Layne and tried to bite his arm. He started wrestling with me and pulled my hair.

In church, when the sacrament tray came to him, he looked around, not to see if anyone was watching, as I was, but to see if anyone could get to him before he could get a giant handful of bread into his mouth. Seriously, by the time the water came around, he was STILL chewing.

He's been hyper, loud, crazy, and somewhat mean and I don't quite know what to do with him. I think I'm going to put his "wild child" shirt on him and take him to pre-school tomorrow, then run. Sorry, Helene (his teacher.) Good luck with that. . .