With these two (and probably other kids too...I hope it's not just us)
we have these really good fun ideas that start out well and fun and happy
and then suddenly something happens,
and everyone's crying.
And there's nothing for me to do as the mom but shrug and laugh and move on to the next "really good idea."
Nicholas asked for popcorn the other day. I like the taste of homemade popcorn so much more than that microwaved stuff,
so we got out our kernals and melted some butter and popped some corn.
We were all having so much fun and the kids were excited about the popcorn. As we were dumping it into the bowl, Nicholas reached down to pick up one of the duds-the un-popped kernals-which was still hot. Cue the tears.
Now, it wasn't that hot-it had been out for a few minutes already. I just have a child who seems to enjoy overreacting to minor pains. He inherited this super awesome trait from his mother. We're just cool like that.
And I have a daughter who does not want to be left out. Anytime we mention anything, really anything at all, she steps forward, points to her shoulders, and says emphatically, "ELLIE!" As in, "don't forget me, Ellie. I want to do it too!"
So because Nicholas was crying about a burnt finger,
Ellie started crying too. "Hot, Mama. Finger hot!"
Two glasses of ice water to put their fingers in and some tastes of buttery (now cool) popcorn later and all was well.
As they ate, Nicholas looked up with delight and said, "And look, Mom, we already have nice cold water to drink!"
This happens frequently, though. Almost every day, really.
A few nights ago we went on a walk around the neighborhood. It was beautiful and cool and Nicholas was riding his bike and we were loving it.
Then Nicholas stopped his bike when I wasn't looking and I ran the stroller right into him. He tipped over, scraped his leg. I tried explaining in a quiet insistent voice that it was just an accident, but
I guess he didn't get it.
We finished the walk with the bike in the stroller and Nicholas walking slowly and screaming the whole way home. Yelling at me "why did you hurt me, Mommy?!?"
And me smiling and waving at all our neighbors, acting like nothing was wrong and trying to reassure them that Nicholas wasn't dying even though he sounded like he might be.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, being a mom sure teaches you to be flexible.
And to enjoy the "really good ideas" for as long as you can before someone starts crying.