I’ve Created A Couch Potato

It has been a rather frustrating week here with Mini Me and I’m sure Muppet and  I only have ourselves to blame. I heard on Monday that the track and field club had started up and suggested to him that he may want to join. He did training for a 5k run back in the spring and was really good at it. The whole thing culminated with a huge run involving kids from the whole school board and there were sponsors and goody bags. Really fun. So, he seemed game to join track and field although he had missed the initial sign up and the first day.

But here’s the thing about Mini Me and it’s the very reason he has this nickname. That kid can freak himself out over nothing and put up obstacles in his brain that are truly astounding. To the outside world he seems social and outgoing but if you know him well (which I do), he can be his own worst enemy. Can you say anxiety? I’m pretty sure it’s a genetic trait and one that I would have happily kept to myself but there you have it. My mother used to keep paper bags in the glove compartment of our Chevy Nova in case she had a panic attack. I was afraid of my own shadow as a kid and still deal with anxiety regularly. Looks like the Mini apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

His dad took him to the running club Tuesday morning while I had to wrestle Monkey out the door later amidst tantrums and tears. He wanted to bring a toy to school and I told him big kids in Grade 2 didn’t do that. I finally got him tearfully out the door and said that if he specifically asked his teacher and she said yes, then it was okay with me (FYI she said no –  I think I love that woman). We get to the school late and find Muppet and Mini Me sitting outside looking like somebody had peed in their Cheerios. Uh oh.

I guess Mini Me got there and all of the anxieties in his little brain just came crashing together to cause a total breakdown. There were too many kids on the course. He wanted to run 5k, not 2.5 (seriously?). He didn’t know what he was supposed to do (ummm, RUN?). It went on and on. As an added bonus, he didn’t want to go to class until he could see me and air his concerns, so now he was late as well as Monkey, who was still in a funk and dragging his heels the whole way to school. And poor Muppet, who thought he was going to drop off his kid and get to work early for a change ended up being especially late due to all the dramatics. Sigh.

After school that day Mini Me and his dad had a talk and they agreed that he would try again on Thursday. Which is today. Which is why I am writing this post. I could tell from the minute I saw his face this morning that it was a no-go. The complaints of fatigue only confirmed my suspicions. Then Muppet got out of the shower and the poop hit the fan. The end result? I think we have given up on cross-country but Mini Me has also lost his computer privileges. If he’s refusing to be active then we are taking away his main temptation to be inactive.

I want to blame myself for letting things get so far out of hand but I don’t know how much of Mini Me’s couch potato tendencies come because of a lack of rules or because he is naturally apathetic. The kids were home this summer for at least a few weeks where they were left to their own devices while I worked. The hours I had been working in the spring were easy enough to maintain when the kids were out of the house from 8:30 to 3:30 but come summer, they were nearly impossible. Monkey is 7 and, left to his own devices, flits between the odd video game or YouTube video, then outside to play, then downstairs for some Lego, then time for some crafts. Mini Me will play Minecraft. Period. The summer before, he would play outside and ride his bike, but that all seemed to be a thing of the past.

So now here we are in September, trying to right our wrongs. In a lot of ways, it’s just like having a toddler in the house again. Remember when you would put a new rule in place or say ‘no’ to them and they would tantrum, and all you could do was wait it out? Then, the next time the tantrum would get a little shorter, and so on. Yep. That’s gonna be my house this fall. I am imposing rules on a 10-year-old toddler who is going to tantrum. But I need to do it. He needs to be more active and I don’t want him to have to struggle with his weight because I can already see the tiny first beginnings of a bulge around his middle. No way. Not on my watch.

Which means I have to get my act together, make the rules and enforce them. There is going to be some tough love around here this fall and that couch potato is gonna get mashed (sorry, I couldn’t resist).

The Gift of Education: A Follow-Up

For any of you who read my post on the Gift of Education, you will know that I met with Mini Me’s teacher this week. For those of you who don’t know what I’m talking about, you can read that post here:

https://noshrinkingviola.wordpress.com/2012/09/07/the-gift-of-education/

To make a long story short, Muppet and I were a bit worried about Mini Me being in the top half of a grade 4/5 split. He’s a bright kid and rarely gets a grade lower than a B+. We wanted to make sure that he wasn’t going to fall through the cracks, that he would be challenged, and not allowed to coast, which he would do happily if allowed.

A teacher friend of mine pointed out kindly that we are lucky that we have these kinds of problems and I totally appreciate that. That was why I was having anxiety about approaching the teacher to begin with. I don’t like causing problems, or making an issue of things, but I guess what I learned about myself is that when it comes to my kids, all bets are off. I will do whatever it takes to make sure they’re ok. Thank you Mothering Instinct. Glad to see you’re in full working order.

So, off I go to meet the teacher. I sent the kids home ahead of me so we could feel free to talk in privacy, and I honestly couldn’t be happier. Mr. D. is probably around my age (40-something) and he is no newbie to this business. He has also taught grade 6 for the last 7 years. He listened to my concerns, and said that he was really glad I came to see him. He said that when teaching grade 6 he often saw kids who would hit a wall academically because they had never learned how to work hard or face challenges, and by then he was trying to get those kids over a huge hump in their school careers before sending them off to junior high. He found it frustrating. Having me air my concerns about Mini Me meant that he was really taking stock of his abilities, as well as those of all his other kids, individually. He had even started giving my boy some grade 6 math, which he was overjoyed to tackle. I left feeling that all of my questions had been answered and that my kid was going to have a fun, rewarding year with a teacher who really ‘gets’ him.

Which really got me fuming again about the way our teachers are treated. Here in Canada, teachers are paid more than in the United States, but yet in the province of Ontario (where I live) the government has just passed a bill to freeze teacher’s wages, cut sick days and deny them the right to strike for two years. WTF?

In our school, teachers run numerous after school clubs and sports activities so that our kids can be healthy, fit and involved. They volunteer at the fun fair and sit in the dunk tank, they meet with parents on their own time, and go the extra mile to help the kids who really need it. They do all of this on top of caring for our kids from 9am to 3:30pm five days a week. For some kids, that is more time than they spend with their parents. And yet, we want to freeze their wages? Try pulling that one on most CEOs in this country.

I volunteer in the classroom and go on field trips regularly. I see first-hand what those teachers are dealing with and I know that I only get the tip of the iceberg. These people are handling a classroom full of rambunctious, hormonal, distracted, chatty little people and trying to actually teach them something. And not just that, but teach according to a strict curriculum with definite expectations about what has to be accomplished. Then you need to add in the kids who have behavioral problems, learning disorders, anxiety, problems at home, abuse, bullying… It is teachers who often identify these problems. I know teachers who have had to call Children’s Aid. I can’t even imagine how stressful that must be and how much you want to just grab that kid and hug them and hide them from what their life must be like, but you can’t because you have to maintain a professional distance. And we say these men and women need to have their sick days cut?

I just spend the majority of the summer (minus two weeks of camp) with my two fairly functional and well-behaved children and found it mentally exhausting. The bickering and fighting, the nagging and demands. Monkey is only just passed the stage where parenting s also physically demanding. The picking up and carrying, dressing them, being called in to help with every little thing.  Come September, I feel like I need a holiday. And yet, we begrudge our teachers having 8 weeks off in the summer? Please. I’m sure it takes them about 3 weeks to stop twitching from the stress of being responsible for all of our kids, then the last two weeks are spent with that slowly creeping feeling of anxiety for another school year. I have been told that no teacher sleeps well the night before the first day of school. What will the kids be like? Will they have a low-key class, or a challenging one? Which kids will need special help and which will cause problems? I shudder just thinking about it.

My kids have been so lucky to have some truly amazing teachers in their lives and it has helped them to love learning. From what I am seeing now, we have hit on two gems again. I think this is going to be another stellar year

 

Is Whip Cracker Extraordinaire a Marketable Skill?

This morning was pretty typical in my household. I stumble downstairs while Muppet gets in the shower, I make the kids lunch, put the kettle on, make sure they are eating breakfast and not glued to the computer or tv. They always get hot chocolate around 8am and then its the daily battle over which cartoon will be on at 8am. Mini Me doesn’t watch much tv, but Pokemon is on at 8am and he gets to put that on while Monkey inevitably whines and complains, then forgets about his supposed hatred of the show and ends up cheering on Ash and Pikachu. Commercial break means running upstairs to get dressed and brush teeth, then they get to watch the rest until its time to leave at 8:30.

Sounds pretty sane, right? I’m sure the kids see it that way too. What you’re not seeing is me in the background cracking the whip every five minutes to make sure that people actually get out the door when they are supposed. to. It’s exhausting.

*SNAP* Out of bed, you guys

*SNAP* What do you want for breakfast? Hello? Are you guys listening? You need to get eating? Helloooo?

*SNAP* Are you done eating? I’m not making any hot chocolate until you’re all done

*SNAP* Go get dressed. Go get dressed. Go get dressed. Go get dressed.

*SNAP* Did you brush your teeth? No? Go brush your teeth

*SNAP* Get your shoes on. Get your shoes on. Get your shoes on. Don’t you have gym today? Take off those Crocs

*SNAP* Stop fighting with your brother/put down the toy/turn off the tv/leave the cat alone and get your jacket.

If I’m lucky they get out the door at 8:30. They’re kids after all, and they’re used to being bossed around to a certain extent. I still have to physically present Monkey with his shoes and jacket sometimes so that he will pay attention and get ready. Today, I had to go searching for his tie because he decided to wear his ‘dress up shirt.’

You know where the wrench in the morning is? Their dad. Seriously. Did you hear me mention him during this morning routine after he got in the shower? Nope. Know why? Because he usually doesn’t mosey downstairs until about 5 after 8, makes himself breakfast, brushes his teeth and then reinforces my whip cracking for the last 10 minutes of the morning.

Not a bedtime activity

Now, I’m not telling you this to make Muppet sound bad. He’s a great dad and partner and has so many wonderful qualities. He just totally sucks at time management. I put a clock in the bathroom so that he will have an idea of where we are in the morning routine at all times. He was replacing the bell on his bike at 8:35am this morning when he had all weekend to do it. He told the kids they could construct a gazillion piece Lego set together at 7:30 last night, 15 minutes before bathtime (and he had to deal with Monkey’s screeching tantrum when he was told that there wasn’t enough time for Lego construction that night.) He will decide he needs groceries to cook dinner for us at 5pm. He is as much a part of my whip cracking routine as the boys are. It’s frustrating. Is this a guy thing? I hate to generalize like that. Is it genetic? Did the boys inherit it? Oh crap, I’m doomed.

Carnivores R Us

Saturday was a rainy day here in Toronto and by lunchtime, I was starting to get restless. Muppet has been working crazy hours lately, which means he has been getting about 5-6 hours a sleep every night when he really needs at least 7. He has this uncanny ability to bank sleep though, which means that if he can stay in bed until 11am even once, he’s good to go for another week of deadlines. While he was snoozing away, I decided I just needed to get out for a bit and as I looked across the room at Mini Me glued to the computer and his Minecraft game, I formulated a plan to bring him with me. I knew that to get him away from that computer screen, I would need something enticing, something intriguing, something delicious, something… meaty!

Mini Me is a carnivore through and through and that boy has never met a sausage he hasn’t liked. We often buy them from the St. Lawrence Market which is in downtown Toronto and where you can get a great variety of good quality, lean meat sausages. I wanted a bit of an adventure on our rainy day, though. I wanted to try out a meat store that had opened in our ‘hood and which was rumoured to have fantastic fresh, farm raised meats as well as homemade sausages in a huge variety of flavours.

When I mentioned this to Mini Me, his eye lit up like it was Christmas morning. As an added bonus, I promised we would stop for a croissant at a nearby coffee shop (mainly because I needed a caffeine fix). He actually squealed with glee at that one. So, off we went.

I love going for walks with Mini Me. It’s when we have some of our best chats. Those conversations make it all worthwhile when it’s the middle of winter and I’m grumping about slogging through snowbanks because we don’t have a car. The walk down was mostly filled with tedious and very detailed descriptions of his Minecraft game, so I smiled and nodded where appropriate and put in some pretty sensible comments, considering I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about half the time. When we got to our destination, after about half and hour’s walk, we were greeted with this…

Wait, there’s more…

Sorry, any of you vegetarians out there for the graphic display of meat porn. We stood staring at the display case, astounded by the sheer variety of sausages. All hand-made, all naturally raised meat, and the smell in that place was AMAZING.

I let Mini Me take the reins and I was surprised by the ones he picked out. Pork and Potato with Leek, Spinach and Ricotta, Moroccan with Cinnamon, Blueberry and Pork. Then he asked if they had anything that was a bit spicier, so the butcher recommended their Buffalo sausage.  I was like “Buffalo spice like the wings?” and the butcher said “No. Buffalo like the animal.” “We’ll take two,” said Mini Me. That’s my boy!!

We left the butcher with our prize and headed over to the coffee-house for a treat. We chatted, drank, ate, and avoided a downpour in the cozy little cafe which I love but which we hardly ever visit. Being so transit reliant, the butcher and coffee shop both are not on the subway line, so we just don’t get down to that ‘hood very often. I really want to remedy that.

As we walked home, we had some great conversations about the kinds of summer job he wants to have while in high school (lifeguarding), which high school he would attend (the local academic high school. He says the arts high school is better suited for Monkey), and when he could have another Junior Nerd Night (next weekend for Dungeons and Dragons). We looked at the houses we were passing and noticed some interesting architecture…

As well as a very stubborn snail who we tried to pry off the middle of the sidewalk but who was determined to stay put.

It was such a great afternoon. My little boy is growing up. He has interesting things to say and is getting adventurous with the things he likes to eat. He really pays attention to what is around him and has so much love and compassion. He’s learning to love architecture  and the city he lives in. I can’t wait to see what kind of man he is going to be.

Oh, and the unanimous favourite in the sausage department? Buffalo. Who knew?

The Gift of Education

Finally we have reached the end of the first week of school and it has been a bit of a rollercoaster in this house. Not for the kids, but for me. They were all eager to head off, ready half an hour early, backpacks on and chattering incessantly from the very first morning. That eagerness has given way to some complaints and whining, caused by what I know to be over-tiredness. It’s hard to go from spending the last week playing Minecraft constantly to having gym class every day AND hiking up and down the four stories that comprise our massive, turn of the century school building. Oh yeah, and it has been HOT. About 3o with the humidex every single day. Did I mention the school isn’t air-conditioned?

My own little rollercoaster journey started when I picked them up after the first day of school and found out that Mini Me was not in the bottom half of a grade 5/6 split, but instead in the top half of a 4/5 split. In case they don’t have split classes where you are, I can tell you that it’s a pretty common occurence here in Ontario. And here is the where I have a bit of a crisis on my hands.

Mini Me is great at the whole school thing. He pulls fantastic grades, he is cooperative and studious and respectful. Teachers love him and I have never heard anything more negative than ‘he needs to speak up more.’ So, all the way home that first day I’m wondering why the heck a kid who performs above his grade level in virtually every subject would be placed in a grade 5 class that is half populated by grade fours. I mean, the common stereotype is that you put the high achievers in a split where they will be exposed to the grade above them, not below. What the heck?

Welcome to my identity crisis. Was I being a snob? Was I underestimating the teacher and his other classmates? Was I one of ‘those parents’ who complains and raises a stink about stupid things? I let Muppet know, and to my great relief his reaction was also a resounding WTF?

So, we are meeting with the teacher on Monday after school to talk about how this whole thing is going to work out and if we’re not happy with the answers we get, we will be approaching the principal to change his classroom. Causing a stink at the school isn’t something I thought we would ever have to do and it makes me sick to my stomach to think that this may be the case, but I’ve been thinking about this a lot and I realize that this isn’t about Mini Me completely. It is also about me.

I came from a family where neither parent ever finished high school. There was never any talk of working hard to achieve your dreams. They never spoke of my sister and I going on to higher education or fulfilling careers. They were happy that we did well and got good grades but by high school, they were pretty much out of their depth. In my entire grade school career, I remember only two times when my parents ever got actively involved in my education.

The first was when the principal told my mother that she should discourage me from being a journalist (something I had wanted to be since about the 3rd grade) because I was too ‘quiet’ and ‘nice.’ He felt I would make a better english teacher. My mother recounted the conversation to me just like that and then the matter was never brought up again. I don’t know what she thought about it. She never told me, but it has always stayed with me.

The second was when I was placed in the top half of a grade 4/5 split. My father called the school. This was the man who never went to a single graduation or school play or awards ceremony, but he called the school and told them that his daughter was to be put in a straight grade 5 or into a 5/6. They moved me the next day. That was the very first time I remember my parents acknowledging that I was smart.

So, can you say baggage? I don’t want to have to speak to the teacher. I don’t want to go to the principal and demand a change if I think it’s necessary. But, you know what? I will do it for my kid. Because he is smart and because I want him to know what it’s like to have challenges academically. I want him to know that we have expectations of him to do well and to make something of his future. We want him to know that if he works hard, he can have a bright future doing something that he truly loves and that he finds fulfilling. And I want the school to know that just because he is ‘nice’ and ‘quiet’ that he is not to be underestimated. I am going to give him what my parents were never able to give me.

My Fall Resolutions

The kids have just left for school and the house is quiet, except for the ceiling fan in the kitchen. It’s a dreary, muggy, sunless day in Toronto for the first day of school but the kids were buzzing with excitement from the minute they got up. Grade 2 and 5 means not a whole lot of transition this year. Same school, teachers they are familiar with by name and reputation, same length of school day. Everything will be familiar and welcoming to them today.

I am enjoying the quiet house with a cup of tea and some contemplation. I love the fall and a new school year always seemed like a fresh start and a clean slate for me more than the actual New Year ever did. So, this year I decided to mull over some of my fall resolutions while enjoying the sunless view of the jungle which used to be my backyard.

1. Get my butt back to the gym so I don’t feel so woefully out of shape and tired.
2. Teach the kids to make their own school lunches. This could actually take the better part of this school year considering the resistance that I will surely meet.
3. Stop working from home in my pyjamas. Once in a while is a treat. Too often and it’s just sad and pathetic.
4. Try to look at least a little fabulous every day (tied to the problem above).
5. Rediscover my cooking mojo. I’m not sure where it went, but I need to get it back.
6. Get Monkey to eat at least 2 new foods. He’s an extreme picky eater, so this is gonna take some patience and perseverance on my part.
7. Attend at least one blogging or social media conference – Check! Signed up for Blissdom 2012 in Toronto this Octorber (anybody else out there attending?)
8. Purge purge purge the crap that is in this house. Donate it. Sell it on kijijii and craigslist. I don’t care. Muppet never seems bothered by clutter and neither do the boys but I am the one running this show and I say the crap GOES.

Hmmm. I’m sure I’ll come up with more as my brain slowly wakes up this morning but for now… MORE TEA!!!

What I Learned This Summer

If you borrow a tent to go camping, make sure your friends gave you all the parts, especially the roof.

Mint grows like a weed and takes over your entire garden when you are not looking. The solution is to find a good mint iced tea recipe and become hopelessly addicted

Summer camps are worth every penny that you pay for them

I am not made for 35 degree weather or any kind of humidity. My ancestors are from England and Scotland. Heat tolerance is not in my DNA

I actually look pretty good in a strapless maxi dress

My kids will play Minecraft until their eyes fall out if I let them

I am much easier to live with when there is central air conditioning available

No matter how much my kids grumble about being signed up for summer camp, they end up loving it

Seven year olds can teach themselves to swim over the course of an afternoon

My kids are old enough that I can leave them alone long enough to run out for some groceries and they will not kill each other or themselves

Tween boys smell really really bad if they don’t shower enough

Tween boys don’t shower enough unless you threaten to take away their computer priviledges

Family camping trips are both fun and exhausting

I am a city girl who would appreciate having electricity on site next time she goes camping

I am not self conscious wearing a bathing suit in public anymore.

Next summer, the kids will be signed up for more camps

I love my kids, but I am very very glad that they are returning to school on Tuesday.

 

 

 

The Bane of My Existence

Is it an alien? A monster? A mutant bug from a tropical rainforest? Oh no. This, my friends is the typical head louse.

This critter has been the bane of my existence for months now. I remember back in the day, when Mini Me started school and you would see those letters go home with the other kids, you would thank your lucky stars and say, with a touch of pride “Oh no, we have never had to deal with head lice.” Those days are loooooooong over.

Monkey came home with the dreaded letter from school back in the winter and the battle was on. We bought the chemical wash, we bought the professional level comb, we picked, we rinsed, we picked again, and he was in the clear. Until they came back again. And again. And again.

I’ve read up and tried it all but I think the frustrating thing is that head lice is no longer seen as a stigma, and the school no longer bans kids from returning to class until they test clean. I get it. I really do. Parents can’t take time off work and kids can’t miss school for something that is no more than an annoyance. But man, it’s hard to be understanding when you’re trying your hardest and it just keeps coming back.

Part of the problem is that I know I can talk to Monkey until I’m blue in the face about putting his head near other kids, but he and his buddies hug when they see each other and I can’t stop it. They put their little heads together to examine bugs and draw pictures. I have a touchy feely kid.

So, I resorted to something I have never done before. I gave him a Mommy Kitchen Cut (TM). It’s crooked and he looks like he’s recovering from a lobotomy, but I can see right down to his scalp on at least half of his head and I am going to get all of those little buggers off if it kills me. Wish me luck!

Is Back To School Shopping A “Girl Thing”?

We’re in our last week of summer holidays FINALLY. I don’t mean to sound mean, but my kids really really need to be back in a classroom. Summer camps are over and family camping is done, they are staying up waaay too late and they are bored. They won’t admit it but they miss their friends from school and the routine of being busy and stimulated every day. And I miss being able to hear myself think when I’m desperately trying to get some work done (I work from home).

They both need new backpacks and I was thinking that we should probably head over to our local mall today to scope out the selection. My suggestion was met with a real lack of enthusiasm and a request for a stop at the Tim Hortons by the mall. Which got me thinking…

The kids have been bombarded with back to school ads for the last few weeks but I haven’t heard a peep about what they want or need. Hmmm. Could they be immune? All of my friends are talking about how their kids have been fretting over the perfect outfit for a week now, searching for the ideal backpack, clamouring for haircuts. Oh. Wait. Those are all my friends with girls.

Which got me thinking some more. Is the whole ‘back to school’ shopping frenzy really just a ‘girl thing’? Do most boys even care what they look like when they return to school after a summer off? I am talking about pre-teens here because I think it’s safe to assume most teenagers are fairly self-conscious about the first day back at school and are looking to make a good impression – girls and boys. But I don’t know a single boy in the 10 and under set who gives a flying fart about what he wears on the first day of school.

Is the whole ‘back to school’ phenomenon just another indication of how we have made our girls so obsessed with beauty and attractiveness? They are told that they need new outfits, they need to look cool, they need to make a good first impression. They will be judged. Or do I just have two fashion challenged boys on my hands and I’m reading too much into it. What do you all think?

I will tell you what we came home from the mall with, though. Mini Me got a backpack after sitting there and having me root through the racks of them, shoving each one at him until he approved of one finally. And Monkey, he got a pale yellow long-sleeved button down dress shirt with a clip on blue tie because he can wear it to look like Bruce Banner when he plays Incredible Hulk. Sigh.

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?