Today’s agenda included our monthly trip to the psychiatrist. Even though LuLu loves our psychiatrist, she hates the appointments, as she really hates rehashing all the things that have happened over the month and talking about the “why” behind her behaviors (like any of us really know what the “why” is).

However, today she did better than usual at that appointment and then came home and did all the helpful things I blogged about earlier.

So, it felt like a huge punch in the gut when she lost it at church tonight. I saw it coming early at dinner, when she kept interrupting my conversations with other adults to ask me (for the 4000th time) if she could change her name. This week she wants to be called Kovu (from Lion King 2); before that it was Mighty Joe Young; and before that it was Mufasa.

Despite telling her “no” that she could not legally change her name to these things until she was 18, she persisted wanting me to answer whether people could call her Kovu in various situations. It’s that persistent, demanding obsessiveness that pushes both of us closer and closer to an explosion. She asks the same questions over and over, noting any slight variation in the answer and capitalizing on it. I know this round of “I’m Stuck” was triggered because she asked the psychiatrist to write Kovu at the top of her medical chart. The doctor refused. LuLu didn’t melt there, but quickly told her that I had said that perhaps if she got a “hospital tag” she could have them put Kovu on it. (I’ve never actually said that, but she’s said it repeatedly and I’ve chosen not to disagree with her and die on that hill…since no one is going to the hospital…at least not yet.)

So the topic came up at dinner, and I’m always troubled as to what to do. If I lie to her, to get her to quit pestering me and become “unstuck”, she remembers that and it causes a bigger explosion later, when something triggers the same anxiety and she asks me again. If I say tell her “no” I risk the explosion right there. I always opt for honesty…and take the explosion head-on.

Well, to LuLu’s credit, she pulled out of it and eventually dropped the subject. But her agitation level was on the rise. And we had about ½ hour before it was time for her children’s group to start. I needed to check on some details for our youth yard sale this weekend, so I took her along.

One of the moms there asked LuLu to help her carry up some boxes for the sale. In that box was a tiger costume for Halloween, which reminded LuLu of the church-owned lion costume that she desperately wants (and has been the topic of many obsessive tirades). Somehow, this unsuspecting mom understood LuLu to say that the lion costume was going to be part of the sale and that she wanted it more than life itself. So this mom agreed to buy it for LuLu.

Of course, she immediately reported it to me and was escalating with anticipation that the coveted lion costume might truly be hers. But the truth is that the costume is not for sale, and that LuLu and I have discussed the lion costume ad naseum.

So Mount St. Helen’s erupted right there in the chapel. We went from the whining to the threats (I’m going to kill you, me, everyone here, our dog, God…you name it) to cussing (G.D. is especially impressive at church).

Needless to say, there is not talking a child back down when the explosion is occurring. So I had to think how to get to my purse and car keys (in the room where children’s choir was going on) without letting her get away or hurt anyone, and beat a hasty retreat.

It was an ugly scene. And one that has happened twice within barely more than a week(the hair incident).

Photo Credit: A still from the original Wizard Of Oz, 1939. Photograph: SNAP/Rex Features