My least favourite times of the day are meal times and sleep times.
So, you can imagine my delight when one went up in flames completely, swiftly followed by the other, careening my entire evening well and truly out of control.
Of course, it was the usual over tired tyrannical toddler thing that happened. Up at 6AM, playing at home, then running around the park with his friends, then swimming on top of it, and zero nap time. I should have seen it coming, really. But he had me fooled. He seems so jovial and put together one second, and then before the plate of food was even fully in front of him it was all, "MOMMY! JUICE! JUIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICE."
I hand him his juice.
"NO JUIIIIIIICE!! NO NO NO!!!"
How could I have been so foolish? The last thing you do is hand them the juice. They don't really want the juice. If anything, the request for the juice is a just a vehicle for their anger.
I bang my head repeatedly on the dinner table until the warm dark descends upon me.
Not really that last part.
More screaming and throwing turkey stir fry and kicking and unsuccessful bargaining later - we are hurriedly throwing on pah jay jays and brushing teeth and going to sleep.
At 6:20, I emerged from DS' bedroom triumphant. He was out.
I was safe from his demands, which are as militant as they are nonsensical and contradictory, for now.
X
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