My Kids Make My Brain Hurt Sometimes

Maybe it’s because it’s almost 11am and I haven’t consumed my required 2 cups of fully caffeinated black tea, but I already have what I like to think of as Achy Brain. It’s a particularly dull ache accompanied by overall annoyance that I think is specific to parents and it is caused by just too many ridiculously stupid demands on your brain in too short a time period, compounded by having to repeat everything you say at least twice. Sound familiar to anyone?

Like this morning, I am trying to drink my tea and Mini Me decides to get himself a bowl of cereal. He takes the first bite of Rice Krispies and flies out of his chair with a yell of pain that gives me a jolt of fear and possibly another grey hair. I look at him slightly stunned, fully expecting him to start bleeding from the eyes or something. No. The Rice Krispie poked his kanker sore. Seriously? Can we get a little perspective. Geez.

CAUTION! DANGEROUS WEAPON!!

Monkey was given a balloon by one of the neighbourhood kids and left it in the kitchen so as I turn on the ceiling fan to get a little air circulation going (is it hot in here or am I having another hot flash?), I carry the balloon to living room for safekeeping.

Me “I’m moving your balloon out here because the fan is on in the kitchen.”

Him “What?”

Me “I’m moving your balloon out here because the fan is on in the kitchen.”

Him “What?”

Me “Never mind.” The balloon has now been delivered to safety and I am heading back to the blissful breeze in the kitchen and my cup of tea.

Him “No! Tell me! Tell me!”

Seriously? He is not only selectively deaf but also incredibly nosey, so while he is happy to ignore you while he’s immersed in Minecraft, he will hunt you down and nag you to death if he gets wind that he has missed some juicy bit of info. Which leads to the following conversation.

Mini Me almost drops the tv clicker in his Rice Krispies and in his lunge to save it (or the cereal, I’m not sure), he comes away with a wince and an arm wrapped around his stomach.

Me “What did you do?”

Him “I stabbed myself with the table edge when I was grabbing for the clicker.” Again, the table is rounded and wood, so probably not a lethal blow but I wince in commiseration.

Me “Ooh, that had to hurt.” See, I am not without sympathy, even when he’s being a drama llama

Monkey (From the living room couch) “What?”

Mini Me “NOTHING!!”

Monkey “WHAT?? WHAT HAPPENED?”

Mini Me “NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!!”

Monkey “Whaaaaaat (insert whiny voice). Tell meeeeeeee.”

Me “HE BONKED HIS STOMACH ON THE TABLE. FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, JUST STOP IT!!!!!”

I may have to make more tea if this is the way this day is going to progress. Maybe I should spike it. What kind of alcohol goes well in black tea? Anyone?

 

 

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