I am currently sitting here, trying to write tomorrow’s post while I have some free time. The hubby has taken my daughter to basketball practice, so it’s just my son and I. The sun is still high up in the sky and the other sun, my son, is happily watching Nick Jr. I figured this would give me one solid hour of writing and I’d be able to get tomorrow’s slice done.
I. Was. Wrong.
I should have known, really. It never works out how you think (hope?) it’s going to. He’s asked for a snack because obviously, he’s hungry (he’s always hungry). So I had him get his little orange snack bowl so I could put some Goldfish in it. I figured that’d buy me about 5-10 minutes. Wrong again. It bought me 2 minutes. Because in 2 minutes, he finished his Goldfish and immediately said, “That’s enough Goldfish for one day. Can I have Cheez-Its?” Instead of replying to him, I tried to finish typing this sentence, so to counter that, he ran over and started tapping on as many keys on my computer that he could. Which totally made this sentence:
(seriously, I copied and pasted it right there). Exasperated, I gave him THE LOOK, stopped typing, poured more Cheez-Its than I should have because it’s almost dinner, and tried to keep going. I thought that would buy me 5-10 minutes. Guess what (you’ve probably already guessed)? I was wrong again. You’d think I’d have learned in approximately 6 minutes of snacks and me trying to type that this will not be easy, I will not finish in one hour and I’ll be up late trying to finish tomorrow’s post. Apparently I’m not the smart one here.
But it wasn’t over yet. He came back and asked for Ritz Crackers. This time I was smart (dumb?) because I said, “Son, it’s too close to dinner. That’s enough snack.” Guess what my 4-year-old did? He lost it. He got upset and threw his body down, rolled around on the floor and cried (fake) tears. He was in full-blown tantrum mode. He yelled unintelligible things and flung his blanket around. He would stop every so often and give me the evil eye. And what did I do?
Well, I could have gotten upset. I could have tried to explain to my 4-year-old how eating snacks before dinner will ruin his appetite. I could have scolded him and put him in timeout. But I caught a glimpse of the outfit I had put him in this morning. And it was then that I realized that I probably jinxed myself by putting this shirt on him because, for all intents and purposes, timeout was where he had just come from: