... been sobbing all over myself watching a newscast or Youtube video about a family suffering a devastating hardship but powering through in a really inspiring way, then turned around and got super annoyed when my great, healthy kid asks me to get some juice or a give him a hug because he is interrupting my moment.
Don't be fooled! I am sure he was driving me crazy!
So at dinner tonight, Bink looked a little worried.
"Mom. We need to get to the bottom of this. Is there a monster stealing my juice?"
Second, this girl is serious. She is not messing around so obviously I cannot mess around, either. I look at her very solemnly and tell her that I have a VERY big secret. Intrigued, she leans in, and I say in a low voice, ducking around the pasta that Baby Boy is throwing at us...
"I think you are old enough to handle this. Monsters. Are. Not. Real. They're not real! They come from the imaginations of people who write books and stories and they are never real. So there is nothing to worry about!"
Relieved, Bink thinks about this and says:
"So who's at Disney?"
Hmm... I wasn't sure if I should tell her that these were just people dressed up, because where does that leave Minnie and Mickey? And what about the princesses? Will I ruin her sense of wonder and whimsy before she starts kindergarten?! Am I overthinking this? Of course I am!
"I don't know."
She is satisfied with this, but keeps going.
"So Cinderella... where does Cinderella live? Mommy, I know where she lives so ask me where she lives."
"Where does she live? Disney?" (Ask and answer...)
"Oh, no, Mommy! I know Cinderella... I met her last year. She lives in New Hampshire!" Bink says triumphantly, and goes back to eating her waffle.
Last summer, we went to Storyland and Bink met her new best friend, Cinderella. As you can see, it was huge.
"Oh, so -"
"Mommy, I'm eating. Why don't we discuss this later?"
I can't figure out who's smarter, but have a definite feeling that she's already lapped me...
While Bink was at ballet this afternoon Bubba and I went to the grocery store to replenish what I thought was our unending stockpile of frozen waffles and American cheese. We picked her up after class and went home, and I brought the kids inside first, with a couple of things, then went back downstairs and out to the car to get the rest of the bags. I come back and start putting everything away and as I am doing this, I think to myself "I had more tomatoes, right?" but then kept going.
So I'm putting everything in the freezer, thinking I am very together because I had cleaned all of the old hair and dried jelly out of the fridge this morning, when Bubba comes stumbling into the kitchen, covered in red goo.
WERE YOU STABBED?! DID YOU THROW UP?! BABY, COME TO MOMMY!!
He comes closer and I see that he is covered head to toe in used cherry tomato. With a sinking feeling, I walk past him into the playroom...
And it looks like a crime scene.
Baby Boy stole a carton of tomatoes out of a grocery bag, dumped it out on the rug, and proceeded to stomp on or squish every single tomato into the couch. And of course, he is standing there with a sh!t-eating grin on his face, loving every second.
The blood is pounding in my ears. I adopt my best Norman Bates voice (the one I take on when I am really, really about to lose it) and send him to timeout. Instead, he goes into the shoe closet, sits on the floor and dramatically fake snores while posing at himself in the mirror.
Note: tomatoes are sticky and disgusting but come out of carpet and couch fairly easily.