In my (and my children’s) defense, I would like to say that we had a mostly pleasant day at home yesterday. We played Qwirkle (best game ever and not because I WON), ate chocolate chip cookies, and I continued operation clean-the-toxic-basement which resulted in the Gort saying ‘Mom, did we get new windows?’
Because he could see through the basement windows.
But then things had to take a nosedive.
It’s the Hen’s birthday on Sunday, and the Gort has been begging me for weeks to take him shopping for a birthday present. But finding time to take just one kid to the mall or wherever one buys birthday presents, has proved impossible. Thus far I’ve had the luxury of saying ‘Henners’ birthday isn’t for a while, I promise I’ll take you shopping’ but now we’ve hit the week of and things aren’t looking up, deadline-wise.
Which is why we all descended upon the Chinook Lego Store at 5.45 yesterday afternoon.
When you combine one up-all-night professor, one do-it-my-way older brother and one but-I-want-the-$300-Star-Wars-set middle brother, at dinner time….well, you end up leaving the Chinook Mall with an almost-four-year old in the throes of a textbook tantrum.
I mean, he was stomping his feet, that’s how angry he was; why mallgoers everywhere turned to look at the family of five exiting the mall. Undoubtedly wondering why the oldest and youngest brothers were smiling, each carrying a tiny Lego man, while the middle boy was sobbing his heart out.
Chalk another one up on the big board of parental humiliation.
We got home and put the boys to bed. Minutes later, four feet appeared on the stairs. ‘You’re supposed to be in bed,’ the professor sighed wearily. ‘Henners swallowed a coin,’ his older brother announced, relishing the role of interpreter slash informant.
‘Did you swallow a coin?” the professor asked his middle son. The Hen nodded his head, seemingly rendered mute by the coin.
‘What do we do now,’ the paternus familias asked, in the manner of those worn out with despair.
‘I think we wait for it to come out,’ I guessed.