I take back every terrible thing I ever said about Max and Ruby. Here's why:
This morning, Brynna woke up in full-on meltdown mode. "WHY IS SHE CRYYYYYIIIINNNNNGGGG?" she screamed mere seconds after opening her eyes.
"Morning, honey. Do you want to come in mommy's room and watch kids' shows? I'm getting ready to get Maren up." It's important to note that at this juncture, The Husband was in the shower and I was running around like a half-dressed chicken with her head cut off trying to pack two overnight bags, wondering why the crap I didn't make my book club dish last night and kicking the underfoot dog out of my path.
"NO! I want to go to sleep, but I can't go to sleep with her CRYYYYYIIIINNNNNGGGG!"
"Sorry, Charlie."
After calming Maren slightly, getting Brynna into my room, but fooling her into letting me keep the news on, packing both overnight bags, nagging The Husband about bringing the extra car seat upstairs, packing all the necessary ingredients for making book club dish, gathering my purse and all the necessary items to go with me by the door and finding shoes for everyone, I flopped down on the bed by Brynna.
"I don't want to go to Miss Amie's today." Oh crap. Can we please note that yesterday you were dying to go to Miss Amie's and didn't care if you never went to Aunt Alene's again. And this morning, you want to go back to Aunt Alene's and don't care if you ever see that Miss Amie person again. Four year olds, worse than movie women from the 50's with the indecisive.
"Sorry. No choice today. But, hey, at least you get to wear your jammies AND donuts for breakfast this morning!" Nothing placated her tiny heart, but she finally just gave in and accepted that I wasn't giving in.
So, after hauling all the packed items outside, strapping my children into their seats, realizing I forgot my lunch and my cell phone and my shoes, going back into the house to collect the forgotten items, saying a quick prayer that I had remembered everything that I had forgotten and finally getting the show on the road, my daughter started again.
"How did you fix that sign?"
"What sign?"
"The sign at church."
"What sign at church?"
"The one with that word on it."
"What word?"
"THE word."
"Where at church?"
"At our church. The new church."
"I don't know what sign you mean."
"THE SIIIIIIIGN."
This is the moment when I change parenting tatics. Pretend to get it and try to drop the subject quickly.
"Ooooh. That sign. I fixed it with tape."
"What kind of tape?"
"Scotch tape."
"How did you get it back up."
"Um. More tape."
"No, I mean with a ladder, or did you stand a really big chair, or did you get on the roof and drop down?"
"Oh, that sign. No, I didn't fix that sign, NiNi did."
"But you told Daddy you did."
"I don't remember that."
"OH NO. YOU LIED."
More screaming. Just what I was hoping for. We were, about this time, pulling into my mom's driveway. She's not even awake yet when I go by, so I carried the bags and spare car seat and maybe my kitchen sink onto her porch and left them there. Opened the door of car.
"I'm hungry, mommy."
"We're going to Miss Amie's and she'll have donuts."
"I'm hungry NOOOOWWWWW." More screaming.
When we got to Miss Amie's, she was, predictably, a freakin' angel. Because kid's are like cars, they never misbehave around the mechanic. She took off her shoes, stowed them in her spot and took off for the kitchen and it's donutty goodness. I sat on the floor and got Maren adjusted. Just as I was getting up to leave, a four year old flopped in my lap.
"I love you."
"I love you too, Pigeon, have a good day."
"Stay with you. Be with you. I love you." (You have to read that in a cheerleadery chant.) Brynna is slowly learning that whining is frowned upon in our house and typically unproductive. The methods she is using to replace whining, however, make whining look like winning the Nobel Peace Prize - exactly what you hope your kids will do.
We started the push and pull. I have to go. No, please stay. I have to go. Let me go with you. Work is boring. I liked it that time I went with you when I was sick. We only stayed for ten minutes and you were sick. I love you. I love you too, but I still have to work and I still have to go alone.
And then it happened. A familiar strain issued forth from the TV in the living room.
*Gasp* "What is that?" My eyes got big. "Max and Ruby... Ruby and Max" I sang excitedly to what is, possibly, the most inane theme song ever written.
She stood, kissed me on the cheek, hugged me and RAN for the living room couch.
The heavens opened and the angels sang. Joy echoed throughout the land.
So, I take it back, insipid, parentless bunny children. I hope with all my heart that you stay on the air FOREVER!
6 comments:
Oh, I can so totally relate! I remember when my son was four and it was nearly impossible to get out the door at the babysitter's house without a full-on meltdown (from which he would *miraculously* recover not even two minutes after I left).
Yeah. I've done the peel the crying child off your leg, run for the door, try to close it gently and end up practically slamming in their face thing before and I'm sure that I cry more after these episodes than she does.
CJ is usually pretty good with the daycare routine, but if it alters slightly, he goes a little crazy. I'm dreading 7/10--that will be his last day at daycare, then he stays home. I'm on vacation for the first week, so I predict that about 7/24, he'll start asking why he doesn't go to daycare anymore, and the fallout will happen then.
"Ruby, and her little brother, Max!"
Oh Jessi. You are allowing yourself to fall into the clutches of this foul temptress and her evil schemes. And for what? A few extra minutes of sanity. The moment we became parents we gave up any chance of ever being able to hold onto our sanity. Upon the birth of our children we began the slow but unrelenting descent into madness brought on by whining and attempting to derive meaning from children's television programming.
Let's ignore the fact that Ruby has murdered her parents and buried them under the site of her garden tea party. Or the fact that she has reduced the obviously intelligent Max to a life of one word stammerings.
No, consider just this one fact. Have you ever wondered why in a world populated with sentient rabbits, that Ruby's dolls are representations of humans?
It is because the rabbits have ENSLAVED THE HUMANS!!!!
The horror. the horror....
Won't somebody please think of the children?!?!?!?
On the other hand, don't you think the rabbits could do a better job of running the world? Just sayin.
I will admit that the social-political consequences of having a rabbit centered world may indeed be preferrable; but, being a human I must come down firmly on the side of my species.
Plus, I am a dyed in the wool carnivore and the idea of being feed lettuce and carrots exclusivily as my daily ration, sends shivers up my spine.
But just in case their world is bleeding into ours, let me be the first to welcome our rabbit overlords.
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