he said he wanted to run away from home

Being 8 years old is tough.

You are old enough to do so many things and yet, too young for a lot that life throws your way.

Our eldest is eight and he is, generally, a really great kid.

He communicates well and follows directions. He is enthusiastic, affectionate, and mindful.

He is also self-absorbed and immature but he is eight and spot-on for his stated age.

He does not want for much, except he THINKS he does.  

And, in the face of all he has - he wants more.  The holidays were hard because within moments of receiving gifts - even items he had identified as his heart's desire - he'd begin talking about how it is not exactly what he wants or start talking about how he is going to save his allowance so he can buy something else.
He does this after buying something with his own money as well.

This kills me. every. time. 

 In fact, it makes me not want to give him anything beyond necessities. 

So, when he started in with this song and dance recently, I told him:

"Dude, you sound so ungrateful right now; it makes me not want to give you anything or help you out with stuff any more..."

His eyes widened and he stopped spinning in his chair. 

He slipped off the seat and went out of sight.

Uh oh {I thought}
because that is never a good sign with him.

I kept going along with whatever was occupying my time at the moment and then he returned to the chair and started talking with me about a completely new topic.  

His speech was tentative but intentional.  

His topic carefully selected to test the waters - seemingly probing for affirmation of our relationship.  

All the while, spinning again in the chair.

Afters some time, he stopped spinning again and said, very quietly:

"When you said that you weren't going to help me anymore - I felt like I wanted to run away."

My breath caught in my throat and my fingers stopped moving along the keyboard.

I turned to look at him; he turned his chair so his back was to me.

"Don't look at me" he said.

"We need to talk about this, Bubs."

 "Yeah, but I don't want you to look at me."

"Okay. But for the record, I want to come over there and look you straight in the eyes while we talk."

He didn't move.
 

"I am sorry I made you feel that way.  That's a horrible feeling.  
{I still vividly remember those moments from my own childhood}  

I guess I am just having a very hard time with the pattern of you having a lot of stuff already, and then immediately wanting more or something different whenever you receive something new.  It really makes me feel conflicted - like you have no idea how lucky you are.

"But you say I can always tell you whatever I am thinking and you will listen and you will help me.  So when you told me you weren't going to help me anymore, I wanted to run away..."

The mother in my mind pushed the table over and ran over to her son, spun him around to face her and suffocated him in her embrace while gushing affirmations and assurances into his ear.

However, with his back still turned, I took a deep breath and swiped at the falling tears.

"Doodlebug, I will always take care of you. And I am always here to listen. Always.  The thing is, I have reactions to the things you say - because I have deep deep feelings for you - and sometimes my reactions are going to be exactly what you need or want. And sometimes they are going to make you want to run away. But whether you feel it or not, I am always here for you."

"I might want to run away again."

"I know.  But that doesn't change the fact that I love you and I will always take care of your needs."

{silence}

I resumed typing. 

He resumed spinning in his chair.

Time passed and we called him to dinner.

Before he sat down, he stopped by my chair, embraced my neck, and buried his head into my shoulder.

Then sat down at his plate, talking about the trophies he won in his video game earlier in the day.

Being 8 years old is tough.