Try try as I might...

My sons Byron and Rowan go to bed at 8:30. Actually, they're in bed around 7:30 and take turns picking their evening movie. Their TV has a timer that I can set and it will turn off after so many minutes. As we all know, I'm pretty regimented around my house, so when there's any deviation from the norm, it really shakes up some snow globes.
Byron had a project that was due last week-yeah I know, and that's another blog entry entirely. Anyway, while doing, uh-helping him finish his project I realize it's 8:45 and no one is bathed, or in bed watching movies. I hand the glue stick off to my daughter Corbyn (the Enforcer) and scoop up 4 year old Rowan and herd him to his bedroom to get ready for bed. Well, of course this radical turn of events just sends this poor child over the edge. He's hollering and stomping and all the things (his father) he does. We get into his room and it is TRASHED. So I say, "Ro, you've got to pick up these toys before bed". Instantly he starts hollering even more and stomping even harder (a 34 pound boy can rattle a 2200 sq ft house when he's really pissed). He begins launching the toys into the box, "These toys are dumb" "I hate these stupid toys, they're all broken and dumb anyways" "I don't wanna live in this house anymore. I'm going to live in the road" all the while hurling toys (with amazing accuracy I might add) into one of his two toyboxes.
On a side note, Ro does not like to wear shirts with buttons. Well, the morning before this happened, I actually got him to wear a (brand new with the tags still on it) long sleeved Rugby type shirt with three buttons. So after the toy tirade, it's time to put on the PJ's. I'm trying to stifle my laughter watching him pacing back and forth while probably concocting an elaborate terroristic plot to destroy the daycare center or something. So, in an attempt to calm him down, I say "thank you for wearing the shirt with buttons on it. You sure look handsome". With lightening bolts shooting out of his eyes and his skull about to split down the middle under the pressure of the pulsating veins he just squinted his eyes and stared at me. "Rowie, it's kinda hard to keep being ugly when Mommy's using nice words isn't it?" Still glaring he said, "Yeah. But I'm still tryin'". And believe me, he is trying.