This picture cracks me up. I asked him to smile and this is what I got.(Don't ever tell them I admitted this. . . ) if I would just listen to my children. Those little stinkpots are a wealth of good information! Allow me to explain:
Yesterday was my typical day off, or "Mommy Day" as Dale likes to call it. It's me and the monsters all day most Tuesdays, and I love it.
We're doing a lot of talking about potty around here (without a lot of success, but we're getting there). Of course, Logan wants nothing to do with it, but I digress. Shortly after breakfast yesterday morning Kate asked to sit on the potty. I helped to get her set up and then panicked because I had no idea where I had stashed the jelly beans (her reward for sitting on the potty). I tore through the kitchen, all while performing the obligatory song/dance/hand jive to celebrate Kate's big-girledness in her choice to sit on the potty. I secretly begged her to forget about the jelly bean reward and tried to think of a substitute. She finished her sitting (no active peeing yet) and her wiping (and wiping and wiping). By this point I was in full-on freak out mode, worried that I'd have to offer her a prune instead (haven't been to the grocery store in a while.) I helped her off the potty, palms sweaty, awaiting the meltdown that was sure to follow. Instead, she toddled over to the counter, pointed to the small crock near the sink, and said simply, "jelly bean." As any calm, rational, reasonable mother would then do, I opened the crock (where I had stashed the jelly beans) retrieved her reward, and decided that the five minutes I'd just shaved off my life wouldn't have been all that awesome anyway.
Later that morning, we traipsed into town for some errand running. As always, it was stupendous. Logan got all sorts of frustrated in Shopko, started crying, and in no quiet voice repeated "Mommy I can't be good" for all to hear. Half way through the grocery store about an hour later I realized that Kate snacked on grapes for most of the trip. We stopped for lunch, got them herded into the restaurant, and thanks to the breadstick lady who entertained them at the table while I ordered lunch, managed to get in and out of the restaurant without much struggle. They even ate. . .both of them. . . how often does that happen?
After getting them buckled in (by then they were t-i-r-e-d) complete with sippy cups, lovies, and a lullaby CD to coerce them to sleep on the drive home, Logan said "Get the milk, Mom." I reminded him that I'd already handed him his milk. He proceeded to repeat "Get the milk, Mom" a little louder each time. Those of you who know how long my patience isn't can appreciate that I reassured him (a little louder each time) that he and Kate both already had their milk. At a quarter past fed-up, I finally decided to ignore him and head home. I threw the car in reverse and looked ahead and lo and behold, my drink was sitting on the hood of the car, right where I'd left it. I put the car back in park, grabbed the drink, and shot a wink at my toddler, who had just spared my car a lemonade bath.
Who are these kids, and when did they get so darned smart??
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