I didn’t have a lot of hope for today getting any better than it started, which was around 5 am when Me Too puked all over the futon. What makes this so bad is that both children and I were sleeping in it at the time. Fortunately(?), I’ve dealt with this situation before and knew what to do, which I won’t go into detail about.
Me Too seemed fine after that. She didn’t eat much breakfast, but she never eats much breakfast so that in itself wasn’t cause to worry. I called in to her preschool that we would not be joining the gulag, er, potato dig field trip. (Literally, a field trip!)
Got Brother up and off to school with surprisingly little trouble. He is all into this series of books about こびと, “little people.” I think they’re kind of gross and Sister is afraid of them, but he is reading by himself and not watching TV, so I’ve decided to look the other way.
We’ve eliminated actual TV entirely purely by accident. Yep, that’s right, my husband screwed up and we weren’t digital ready. From a maternal standpoint, I like not having the signal. I have complete control over what, when, and how much they watch. (Insert evil laugh here.)
Me First still fights me a lot on DVDs, though. I tell him each and every morning that once he is ready for school if there is time then he may watch a video. He has a fresh come back/strategy every single day. By the time he has finally stopped arguing/whining/ pitching a hissy fit, he usually has about ten minutes to get ready and run out the door. (Totally unrelated aside: Why does spell check keep changing hissy fit to hussy fit? Those are two totally different things! Is this, like, another one of those, like, totally embarrassing times when what I think is standard English is actually a colloquialism? Like the time someone asked me what a “fixinta” was? It took me a few minutes to realize she didn’t understand what I meant when I said I was fixing to do something spectacular.)
(Anyway, I shall now return from my digression transgression.)It’s a little easier to get Mr. Six out of a book, for now at least.
While he was gone being educated, Me Too and I had a thrill filled morning playing with stuffed animals and playing the “different people game.” She always pretends to be Brother, though sometimes she will be Brother When He Was a Baby.
“Who should I be?” I ask.
“You can be Brother’s Mommy,” is the answer every time. I’ve tried pointing out to her that this is not a different person for me and thus contrary to the rules of the game. She just blinks at me as if to say, “Get on with it, fool.”
She could do this all morning, but surprisingly enough, I cannot.
She hadn’t been sick for hours, so we went for a ride on my bike to the grocery store. For this, of course, she needed pink tights, shiny shoes, and a toy baby stroller. This wasn’t a battle Mommy was going to win. I know my enemy well-I needed to fold this toy baby stroller to put it in the bike basket and the last time I attempted this I barely made it out alive. Somehow I managed with all of my appendages still attached to their appropriate places, but then I realized the stupid toy stroller won’t stay closed. Me Too realizes this at the same time. Tension is building; one of us will break down. Then-low and behold- a stroke of genius strikes me in the form of a shiny ponytail holder. Her majesty of the pink tights and shiny shoes approves, and we are out the door.
When Me Too is in the mood for shopping, she can put a Kardashian to shame, My grandmother would be proud. We had a pleasant shopping experience, all things considered. Came home and had a “picnic” in the living room, which means I put a picnic sheet on the floor and we ate there. Four year old’s, on occasion, can be easy to please. She liked that enough to eat all of her lunch, even the veggies!
Me First came home a bit early from school. I suspect he walked through the parking lot instead of the long way around, which they aren’t supposed to do, but since I didn’t see it I didn’t say anything. Took some strong arm tactics like the withholding of pudding, but by three o’clock both Japanese and English homework were done! Took the kids to the park where they had a nice run about and came home at dusk. (The sun sets so early here, it’s dark by 5:30 and it isn’t even winter yet.)
Everyone was starving for their dinners, which were eaten up in record time. Then we watched “Charlie Brown’s Thanksgiving,” took a bath and went to bed, where both children fell promptly to sleep, dreaming of corn bread, no doubt. (Brother associates that with Thanksgiving, so please don’t tell him any different.) Sister doesn’t remember having eaten turkey before, and she kept asking me if they were real or not. What do you think she will do when I tell her wild turkeys used to wander in our yard when I was little? They were awful big; we were afraid to go outside until they left.
It’s been a nice day when I least expected it. Both children’s manners have improved a lot suddenly for reasons I can’t fathom, I seriously doubt it is the years of constant effort on my part. That makes me feel like Thanksgiving has already come.
Somebody pass the corn bread, please and thank you