Over Birthday Dinner
Me: ... and I was so mad at the Pie today when she was throwing that tantrum and wouldn't sit still so I could buckle her into the carseat that -
Hubby: (staring with shocked expression) You can't get mad at the children.
Me: Well, I calmed down after a few min - Wait. I can too get mad at the children. What are you talking about? I'm allowed to get mad at the children sometimes. It's not like I yelled at her or anything. My mom says she used to scream at us, and I don't even remember it, so it's not like I was scarred by it.
Hubby: But, but - they're just little children!
After Watching Too Many Danger Ranger Videos
Bub: (shortly after the Pie went down for her nap) Danger Ranger Mama, did you put Danger Ranger Pie into her bed???
Me: Yes, Danger Ranger Bub. Yes, I did.
Tantrum Times Two
My tummy was feeling rumbly Thursday night. We had just watched the latest episode of Lost and were getting ready to watch a taped episode of Survivor from earlier in the evening. I poured myself a bowl of Corn Flakes, reached for the brown sugar, and realized that I had slightly less than a full spoonful. This was a disaster with implications not only for my bedtime snack, but also for my breakfast in the morning. Why had I not put brown sugar on the grocery list when I poured the last of the bag into the plastic container? I kicked myself for the oversight, anticipated tomorrow morning's white-sugar cereal with a sinking feeling, and began to develop a growing suspicion: somehow this must be all hubby's fault.
Then I went to the refrigerator for milk and realized that there was about half a cup left - barely enough for my snack, and nothing for the morning.
Suffice it to say that there was much banging of bowls, some shouts of "That's just great!" and "I guess I just have to starve!", a general throwing of boots and coats, some stomping of feet and banging of doors, and then I was off to the grocery store at ten o'clock at night, the Fans and Favorites still frozen mid-screen, their shelters unbuilt, with no idea of what they were playing for.
I thought of that yesterday when, after being denied hot chocolate at Starbucks and then enduring the further indignity of having an Estee Lauder compact full of eggplant-coloured eye shadow torn from her happy little hands, the Pie howled and stamped in her fury. Her rage animated her whole body; she roared in frustration and screamed "Don't look at me!" when I tried to make eye contact.
"Do you need to make a deal?" I asked. "Will you go back to the crib if I read you a story first?"
She nodded, catching a sob in her throat, relaxing her body against me as we curled up in the chair, cracking just the barest hint of a smile as she filled in the blanks. "If you give a mouse a cookie," I began, "he's going to ask for a glass - of - "
"Milk," she whispered.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Over Birthday Dinner