On the tenth day of Christmas my true loves gave to me……ten minutes’ walking, nine minutes’ sledding, eight pieces pizza, seven inches snow, six chocolatechip cookies, five hours alone, four people dressed, three frozen fruit treats, two burning snowmen and a queasy feeling in my tummy…
‘What did you have for dinner tonight?’ my sister asked when we were talking on the phone. ‘Nothing.’ I stated. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked incredulously.
‘I don’t know, I think the kids ate some cold pancakes and a granola bar.’ Which is pretty much what happened.
We’d just walked in the door, after a short and chilly jaunt by the river. G immediately ran to the fridge – still wearing coat and boots – where he discovered some leftover pancakes from yesterday’s breakfast. The Hen followed suit, foraging through the pantry ‘closet’ until he found a granola bar. He carried it over to me, holding it out insistently until I tore open the wrapper. No one uses the grunt and point as well as the Hen.
It was only 4.30pm, but they sat down at the table and G divvied up the pancakes. They ate, unceremoniously, without candles, utensils, or even parents. After that, I didn’t really see the point of making dinner.
I had a bowl of sweet potato soup. Which would have made a perfectly nice meal for everyone, except I can only cajole G into eating three bites since he thinks it’s too spicy. And the Hen. Well, I’d prepared a small bowl for his lunch yesterday and left it on the table. When I returned he was sitting on top of the table helping himself to the soup. With a spoon. (Instead of his hands, like his afternoon’s mashed potatoes.)
I was so pleased that he was eating the soup, that I didn’t reprimand him about the whole ‘sitting on the table’ business. After he’d ingested his sixth bite of soup, he burst into tears. Chipotle overload. When I offered him a spoonful tonight, he just turned his head and made a slapping motion toward me.
Later, as I cleared off the table, I saw the Hen’s granola bar still lying on a plate, seemingly untouched. Apparently he’d been sidetracked by the pancakes. Since I was still hungry, I grabbed the bar and took a bite…. of a thoroughly soggy granola bar. It seems ‘someone’ had ‘tested’ the snack and decided not to eat it.
Gross.
Oi, a soggy granola bar. Extreme recycling?
Yeah, I couldn’t bring myself to be that ‘thrifty’…I tossed it.
Yeah, you know you’re a hungry parent when…you go ahead and eat it.
Oh yeah, I was all indignant 24 hours ago. Today, it happened again…and I ate it.