Whine: I discovered the hard way that Lil’ Sis is cutting her molars–she was fussing and crying and then just took a huge bite out of my belly. That’s gonna leave a mark.
Cheese: If I told you how fabulous my Mother’s Day weekend was, you’d never let me post another whine again. Suffice it to say that when Monday rolled around I was well-rested, fully showered and fed, and I had cute toes to boot. Of course I was exhausted, starving and stinky by Monday night, but at least my toes were still cute.
The children and I walked to the park last night. I’m tired just thinking about it. We were gone for almost two hours. Lil’ Sis rode in her push car and Big Sis walked alongside disappointedly. Except when she was pushing Lil’ Sis downhill, letting go and laughing maniacally.
We had fun at the park, courtesy of Uncle Tickle, Aunt Chelle and Elizabear, who met us there. Uncle Tickle actually likes the park (I know, I don’t understand either) and played lots of chase and forced a reluctant Big Sis to at least try the big kid swings. (They compromised and she swang on her tummy.)
So on the walk home, Lil’ Sis asked for a glass of milk. And I, of course, refused to open my magic portable refrigerator and pour her a glass. ’Cause I’m mean like that. So she proceeded to ask me again. Again, I told her that we would get one when we got home. She asked for a glass of milk exactly thirteen times on the twenty minute walk home. And at one point, she stooped down on the ground and with the stick she was holding, laid out the steps we would need to take in order to get a glass of milk.
Pointing with stick. First we will get three cups.
Pointing to the next step. Then we will pour the milk.
Pointing again. Then we will get three cookies.
And finally. Then we will watch a movie.
I agreed that her plan was a good one, which quieted her for approximately seven steps. And seeing as how we were still interminably far from home (like five whole houses), she stopped, touched the stick to her forehead and said “I’ve got to think.” (Or more accurately in her toddler Texas accent “I’ve got to faink.”) She stooped down again and with all the accuracy and confidence of a seasoned coach prepping his team for the championship, reiterated the plan again.
You’ll be glad to know we finally made it home and had our cookies and milk. Although when I attempted to deviate from the plan by bypassing a cookie for myself, she was quick to correct my misstep. If only I could get her to faink of a four-step plan for going to sleep at night, I’d have it made.