Ch. 9

The kettle was boiling for the second time when Mrs. Ladybug heard the front door open again. Moving the steaming pot to a cool stovetop, Mrs. Ladybug stepped out of the kitchen in time to see Mr. Grasshopper hanging up his coat. Dylan, meanwhile, didn't stir from the couch and didn't notice the annoyed glance Mr. Grasshopper sent his way. Mrs. Ladybug waved him over.

"Yes, the tea's ready."

"Well, I have a feeling we're certainly going to need it." Mr. Grasshopper frowned as another round of gunfire ripped through the living room. "Have you...?"

"Not yet. I wanted to make sure James was already upstairs before any trouble started."

"Good. Was he alright?"

"He seemed to be, though I've no doubt he'll want to tell you about his day at school himself."

That at least brought a smile to Mr. Grasshopper's face. "Of course," he agreed. "Right, then, into the fray we go. Shall I pour you a cup of tea first?"

"Please, I could use a second cup. Go ahead and I'll... try to reason with Dylan."

Mrs. Ladybug made her way back into the living room and stood by the television set, facing Dylan. The older boy ignored her as he sat slumped against the cushions with a blank expression on his round face. With a sigh, Mrs. Ladybug reached over and turned off the television as the ending credits started scrolling across the screen.

"Hey! I was watching that!"

"Yes. You were. But the program is over and you will no longer be watching television for the rest of the day or, for that matter, the rest of the week."

"WHAT?" Dylan jumped up from the couch, a furious expression on his face. "You can't do that!"

"I think you'll find that we can."

Dylan turned to see Mr. Grasshopper striding into the living room. The older insect fixed Dylan with a steely eye, but the older boy's scowl didn't waver.

"I wanna watch TV! I always watch TV after school! Grandma says-"

"Dylan, if you had behaved yourself this morning, you would have been permitted to watch an hour or so of television before starting your homework."

"THAT'S IT?"

"However, given your unacceptable behavior this morning- and indeed last night, if I'm being honest- that privilege has been revoked."

"Huh?"

"No television for the rest of the week," Mrs. Ladybug said firmly.

"WHHHYYYYY?"

"We told you. Your temper tantrum last night was bad enough, but you were quite rude to James and the rest of us this morning. As such, you are being punished," Mr. Grasshopper replied.

"BUT-"

"That being said," Mrs. Ladybug held up a hand. "If you behave yourself for the rest of the week, we will allow you to start watching television again starting Saturday. However, you must earn that privilege back, so I suggest-"

"NO NO NO!" Dylan stamped his feet as he shouted as loudly as he could! "I WANNA WATCH TV! IT'S NOT FAIR! I WANNA WATCH TV!"

"And we would like for you to cease that screaming, young man!" Mr. Grasshopper had to raise his voice a good deal louder than normal just to be heard. "At the rate you're going, you're certainly not helping yourself earn back your television privileges."

"I CAN WATCH TV! GRANDMA SAID SO AND-"

"Yes, we'll be having a discussion with your grandmother tomorrow about that and about what shows you're allowed to watch. But until then-"

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH! I HATE YOU!" Dylan threw himself onto his back on the floor, kicking his feet and beating his fists against the wood as hard as he could. Tears streamed down his reddened face as he continued to scream,

"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU I HATE YOU!"

"Right, then, Dylan, you will also not be permitted any sweets after dinner tonight nor tomorrow."

"WHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAA!"

"That's enough! For Heaven's sake, you're nine years old, not two. Stop this awful behavior this instant!"

Mrs. Ladybug's words went unheeded. Dylan's screams echoed through the house at such a volume it was a wonder the entirety of Central Park didn't come running over to the Peach Pit to investigate. The older boy's hands thumped against the floor and if he'd still been wearing his shoes, they'd likely have flown off his feet from the force of his kicks. Mr. Grasshopper and Mrs. Ladybug took a small step back from the screeching child, lowering their heads to converse.

"He's going to give himself a sore throat if he keeps this up."

"I know. But perhaps that might be for the best."

"How so?"

"Well, I doubt he can keep this up for long. And if his voice gives out, he won't be able to scream like this for some time."

"Are you proposing we simply let him carry on like this?" Mr. Grasshopper asked incredulously.

"I don't think there's much we can do when he's acting like this. Hard as it is, we should just-"

"AHHHHHHHHHHH! I WANNA WATCH TV! I WANNA WATCH TV! I WANNAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" Dylan's words faded into garbled screams intermixed with rough coughing. His face was as red as a tomato as he gasped for breath, but the furious expression on his face didn't fade even as his thrashing grew weaker.

"Now then, Dylan, are you quite finished with that frankly embarrassing display of temper?" Mr. Grasshopper asked, adjusting his monocle to glare down at the boy.

"Waaaaaaaa!" Dylan went limp on the floor, his arms and legs splayed and his eyes closed.

"Good. Now you can start your homework."

"Don't wanna."

"Well, you have to."

"No."

Mr. Grasshopper raised an upper hand to his face. "Exactly what can we threaten him with now? He's already lost the two things he desires most."

"I'm afraid I'm at a bit of a loss myself," Mrs. Ladybug admitted quietly. "I doubt confining him to the house will do much at this point."

"No I don't think so. Well, first things first." Steeling himself, Mr. Grasshopper leaned down and took Dylan gently, but firmly by the upper arm and pulled him into a sitting position. This was no easy task as the older boy was little more than dead weigh in the elder insect's grip.

"Dylan, get up!"

"I don't wanna!"

"You're acting like a toddler! Stand up!"

"Nooooooo! Hey, let go!" Dylan tried to struggle as Mrs. Ladybug grabbed his other arm to haul him upright. Between them, they managed to get Dylan to his knees, but he continued to hang limply between them, refusing to get to his feet. "I'm not getting up and I'm not doing homework! I NEVER do homework!"

"What do you mean you never do homework?" Mr. Grasshopper asked with a frown. "I sincerely doubt you have gone nearly your entire school career without once doing homework."

"Grandma says I don't have to!"

"She... what?" Mr. Grasshopper's eyes widened to the point his monocle dropped from his eye.

"Dylan, even if that were true, your school would never allow such a thing. If you refused to turn in homework, you would not have been permitted to move on to a higher grade."

"Not to mention I believe you would have had to attend summer school," Mr. Grasshopper added, replacing his monocle with a lower hand. "Unless you're telling us you'd prefer to do so?"

"NO! Grandma does my homework!"

"I... what?" Mr. Grasshopper nearly lost his grip on Dylan's arm. "Dylan Anderson, are you telling me your grandmother has truly done all of your homework up until this point?"

"Yes!" Dylan's pudgy face split into a smug grin. "So unless you want me to get in trouble tomorrow, you better get my homework done!"

"You can stop that attitude right now, young man!" Mrs. Ladybug scolded. "And believe me, that's something else we're going to discuss with your grandmother."

"She won't care! She's gonna be mad at you for being so mean to me! She's gonna have you thrown in jail!"

"Mind your tongue, Dylan, that's not something to joke about!" The fury in Mr. Grasshopper's voice was enough to wipe the smile from Dylan's face, but though the older boy's lip trembled for a second, the ever-present scowl returned to Dylan's face.

"I hate you!"

"You can hate us, but the fact remains that we are not going to let you behave this way. I think you need to spend some time alone in your room and think about how you want to act in the future."

"NO! I WANNA WATCH TV!"

"And as we've told you, you've lost your television privileges. Now come!"

"NO! LEMME GO!"

Unfortunately for Dylan, his tantrum had left him too exhausted to struggle away from Mr. Grasshopper and Mrs. Ladybug. At the same time, however, the older boy refused to make the walk upstairs easy and simply hung limp in their arms, letting his feet and lower legs drag across the floor.

"Dylan, you're not making this any easier on yourself. Now walk correctly."

"Make me!"

There was a pause, then,

"Very well."

With merely a glance at each other, the two insects let go of Dylan's arms. Before the older boy could react, Mr. Grasshopper had grabbed the boy's wrists and Mrs. Ladybug took ahold of his ankles.

"HEY! LEMME GO!" Dylan struggled, but was carried upstairs laying flat between the two insects. He tried to wiggle, but neither Mr. Grasshopper nor Mrs. Ladybug allowed him to break free from their grasp. "AHHHHHHHH! LET GO!"

"You're to stay in your room until we call you to dinner and that's final!"

"I DON'T WANNA!"

"You have no choice!"

"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!"

Dylan's furious protests went unheeded as the two insects managed to lug him into his bedroom and plopped him down on his bed. Once freed from their grips, Dylan thrashed his arms and legs again, but both Mr. Grasshopper and Mrs. Ladybug backed out of reach. He did, however, jump off his bed and make a beeline for the door, but both insects swiftly exited the room and closed the door before Dylan reached it. All the same, Mr. Grasshopper had to hold the door shut as Dylan continued to scream to be let out and yank on the doorknob from the inside.

"Well, he seems to have gotten a second wind." Mr. Grasshopper winced as a series of thumps made the door shake in his hand. "Stop that kicking, Dylan!"

"LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!"

"Dylan, you're confined to your room and that's final!"

"AHHHHH!" Dylan kicked the door a few more times, but to both insects' surprise, the thumping stopped and the sound of bedsprings creaking from the force of a body slamming onto a mattress reached their ears. Dylan's screams tapered off into snivels and whines, but other than that, a relative peace settled through the Peach Pit House again.

"My goodness," Mr. Grasshopper sighed, nearly leaning against the bedroom door.

"Indeed," Mrs. Ladybug agreed. "Thank goodness he wore himself out. I don't know how much more of that I could take."

"Unfortunately, I don't think we're out of the woods just yet. Dylan may have run out of stamina for now, but given what happened last night, my guess is we're in for another fight at the dinner table."

"And I'm becoming less hopeful about tomorrow," Mrs. Ladybug admitted. "I thought Dylan's television habits were bad enough, but his grandmother doing his homework for him?" Mrs. Ladybug shook her head. "He didn't make his bed this morning either. From the sound of it, Dylan has grown up with no sense of responsibility whatsoever."

"Hmmm, I think we need to have a discussion with the others about this. This is something we should have been told about."

"I agree, but Ms. Gould had no knowledge of Dylan's behavior either. Thankfully, she's agreed to sit in on Dylan's visit with his grandmother tomorrow."

"A good idea. Why don't we see how that goes and then we can determine how to proceed. Provided we last that long, of course."

"Is Dylan alright?"

Both Mr. Grasshopper and Mrs. Ladybug turned to see James emerging from his bedroom. The little boy seemed nervous as he glanced over at the closed bedroom door of the guest room and from the look in his eyes, he'd heard every one of Dylan's screams.

"Yes, James, Dylan's fine. But are you?" Mrs. Ladybug quickly hurried over to her son's side, Mr. Grasshopper following her. "All that nonsense could not have been pleasant to overhear."

"I'm alright. Really."

"Are you sure, James? You don't look well, my boy." Mr. Grasshopper knelt down to place a hand on James's shoulder. The older insect felt his heart twist at the look of resigned fear in James's eyes, something that hadn't been present since the family had first met. And Dylan had barely been with them a full day; what would a week or longer do to his poor boy?

"Yes, I'm sure. I just... I didn't think Dylan could scream that loud."

"Neither did we, dearie, and we're sorry you had to hear that." Mrs. Ladybug ran a hand over James's cheek. "I'm taking him to see his grandmother tomorrow, though; perhaps she can help with Dylan's behavior."

From the look in James's eyes, he'd also overheard his guardians' doubtful conversation regarding that topic. All the same, James smiled slightly and nodded in agreement.

"Maybe Dylan just misses his grandmother. He might feel better after seeing her."

"Let's hope. In the meantime, I think we could all use a bit of hot tea after that."

"Excellent idea. We'll have to reheat the water, but that won't take long. In the meantime," Mr. Grasshopper took James in his arms, holding his son tightly as the three headed downstairs. "I hear you had a rather good day today."

"Yes." James visibly brightened. "We have a special project we're going to be working on this week. I finished the first part already, but you can't look under my bed because it's a surprise."

"Ahhh, is it? Well that does sound exciting."

"It is. Tessa and I are working together."

"Are you? Hmm, I don't suppose you can give us a hint about what you're working on?"

"No, sorry," James said with a grin.

"Looks like we'll just have to wait until Friday then," Mrs. Ladybug said with a laugh.

"We should have it done by Thursday because we'll need to bring them to school on Friday."

"Thursday it is then," Mr. Grasshopper said with a nod. "It's nice to know we have something to look forward to."