100 Times, No

Grrrrrrrrr. I know that as the parent, I'm supposed to get over it. I'm the mature one who should find an amiable route to compromise. But as of yet, the road to a happy dinner experience is closed. The road block, is Cooper.


Me: Cooper, what would you like for dinner?

Him: What are my options? (the reply is pretty salty)

Me: Quesadillas?

Him: Oh really, no.

Me: How about nachos?

Him: Naaaawwww.

Me: Pepperoni Pizza?

Him: I don't want anything cooked.

Me: OK. How about a sandwich?

Him: What kind?

Me: Peanut butter and jelly?

Him: No way.

Me: Ham and cheese?

Him: Gro-osss. Never.

Me: Turkey?

Him: Not even.

Me: Poop? How about a poop sandwhich?

Him: Mom! Gross, totally no.

Me: Well, I could make macaroni and cheese...

Him: Exasperated sigh followed by No.

Me: Apple?

Him: Nuh uh.

Me: Banana?

Him: Nope.

Me: Scrambled eggs?

Him: Don't even.

Me: I give up. What's your idea?

Him: I was thinking about something with chocolate.

Both: Grrrrrrrrr.

PHOTO NOTE: I know this photo sucks. But it is exactly the contemptuous face Cooper makes while we are having this conversation. Every. night. I'm not even kidding.

PS -- If you have a slightly contrary child, as I have indicated above, you should never, ever check out the book: 1000 Times No, by Tom Warburton. It only encourages them and broadens their ability to turn you down.

We Witched You a Happy Halloween, Now Get Over It

Bring on November.

We're Ready

Hey you trick-or-treaters... I am happy to announce, we are ready for you.

BEFORE




AFTER

Resistant to Change

After two days of being trapped indoors and playing LEGOs non-stop, I thought my boys would welcome a chance to play outdoors. It is sunny, not too cold, and there are mountains of snow for sculpting and fun. I thought they would like to make a snow man. Noooooo. They played "snow LEGO". Because, you know, that's exactly what I would want to do after logging upwards of 12 hours of LEGO time.

Onion-y

Raw weather is all about the layers. More specifically it takes three times as long to assemble and put on the stratum of clothing required to endure the snowy cold than you – or your children – will spend playing in it.

But it’s a must.

So are playful pictures of said children in said layers.




PS – Speaking of layers, we need gloves. Our kids grew out of the ones from last year. Go figure!



PHOTO NOTE: Picture of tricycle shows how much snow fell in just a few hours. Look at tires to see the difference.

Do Me a Favor?

If you smoke... would you consider quitting? We all know that it’s one of the biggest killers in the world and causes disease and cancer. From what I understand, that's a bummer.

But here's my beef.

It grosses me out to find my 3-year-old anywhere close to an ashtray. In fact, I found him nearly kissing-distance close to a cigarette butt huffing and puffing at it. When I asked him what he was doing, he said, "Trying to blow out this stinky candle."

Just quit.

Wide Open Spaces

I am generally inspired by my children. The things I write about, talk about and do are usually centered around my children -- for better or worse. That's why I haven't been writing as much. If I were to recap what I've heard them say over the past few days it would look something like this.

Screaming. Followed by screaming. And then Mason screamed to Cooper. And Cooper then screamed. There was some kicking, interrupted by screaming. Screaming ceased for a couple hours during sleep, but was abruptly taken up again at day break. Screaming.

I decided it was because they were cooped up in the house. So, I took them for a walk around the neighborhood. I was counting on the wide open spaces, fresh air, and lack of crowds to help me endure it. What I didn't account for was the volume. About midway through the walk Cooper decided he would not walk any farther. So, he laid down in the middle of the golf course (golf courses are generally pretty big) and started screaming.



It was screams like, "No mommy no. Stop mommy!" Said in rapid succession and an awful lot like a child who is being burned by a cigarette. Horrible. So loud, in fact, that people started coming out on their porches and looking at us. I was mortified and just walked away.


Then I realized people were just going to call the police. So, I made the walk of shame back to his howling self. Mason was also so sick of the screaming that he permitted Cooper to sit on his lap, in the stroller, for the rest of the ride home. Let it be said, tantrums work.