• Michelle

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Bowl in the sink

Due to some babysitter issues yesterday a backup babysitter was called in but didn’t start until 6am. This meant I got to spend the morning with my boys. The mornings I get to spend with my boys have got to be some of my favorites. I think because they are so few and far between. The weekend mornings don’t count for some reason, though I don’t know why. It’s just different when it’s during the week I guess.

This is a conversation I had with John as we were finishing up with breakfast:

John: “I’m done with my cereal.”

Me: “Ok, put your bowl in the sink.”

John: “Why?”

Me: “Because I said so.”

John: “Oh. But my stomach hurts.”

Me: “Well, that doesn’t mean you can’t put your bowl in the sink.”

John: “I need you to do it.”

Me: “No, I don’t think so. Please put the bowl in the sink.”

John: “But mom, my stomach hurts. It’s gonna rip and rip my shirt.”

Me: “Oh no. I’m so sorry to hear that. I need you to put the bowl in the sink before that happens though, ok?”

John: “Ok” {grabs the bowl and heads towards the sink} “Mom, my feet hurt.”

Me: “Well, they’re not going to fall off before you get to the sink.”


Last night I was left alone with the boys, and if you remember what happened last time when mom is left in charge of dinner, you can imagine what I did this time.

Actually, it wasn’t that bad. I made grilled cheese sandwiches. Gary and John each had a sandwich with American cheese, I made mine with Baby Swiss. Yum! But I digress. Gary must have been super hungry because he had scarffed his sandwich down in record time. Once finished, he asked if he could have a snack. I told him yes and he headed straight for the homemade chocolates sitting on the counter. He grabbed 2 pieces of fudge, but before he could get too far I told him he could only have 1. He placed the second piece on the table in front of John intending for John to have it when he finished with his dinner. At this point into dinner, John hadn’t eaten even half of his sandwich. He reached for the piece of chocolate in front of him, but wasn’t fast enough. I grabbed it with lightening speed and told him he had to finish his dinner before he could have it.

He stuffed what was left of the first half of the sandwich into his mouth and washed it down with his Capri-Sun and tried to convince me he was finished. I told him he had to finish the other half before he could have the fudge. He proceeded to slowly eat the other half, in between playing silly games with me and laughing hysterically. The chocolate remained in front of me as we ate and played. John got down to the corner of the crust and decided it was time to use the bathroom. While he was gone, I decided he had eaten enough and picked up the sandwich and placed the fudge on his plate, throwing the last bit of dinner in the garbage. When he came back to the table and noticed his sandwich was missing, he threw a huge fit! The tears were pouring, the snot was flowing, he threw himself on the fireplace and had himself a tantrum! He cried at me saying he was going to finish his sandwich. So like any good mom would do, I fished the sandwich out of the garbage and placed it back on his plate. I moved the fudge to the counter and watched as he stuffed the remains of the sandwich in his mouth. (For those who are completely grossed out, the garbage had just been emptied and the only thing in the trash can was the plastic liner and my paper plate.) After he had finished the sandwich he looked up at me and said, “I’m done with my sandwich, can I have the fudge now?”

I’ve got to wonder – Did he really want the last bit of sandwich or did he just think he needed to finish it to get the fudge? The world may never know…



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