This morning was busy. Hectic. Filled with demands from small people. You know, normal. And two hours into the non-stop activity that is an average day my patience was starting to wear thin. Which was obviously the perfect time for my just-ate-breakfast-twenty-minutes-ago children to start asking for snacks. I offered them stick cheese, aka string cheese. Max, my three-year old son, happily takes his and runs off. Mason, the two-year old, takes his, looks at it then asks me to “make strings” for him. See, his daddy always pre-strings his cheese for him because he is a daddy. He has nothing else to do. As the mommy who was still hoping, nay, longing, for some coffee and (dare I say it?) food, the extra sixty seconds it would take to dismantle sting cheese into a more edible state was a fucking eternity. So I did what I imagine all beautiful and practically perfect in every way mothers would have done. I said, “Arrrghhhhhhh!!!!” (as I worked on the string cheese prep, of course.)
The boys stopped in their tracks and said, “Mommy! Why did you make that noise?!”
ME: “Because mommy is tired and hungry.”
MASON: “You are hungry?”
MASON: “DON’T EAT MY STRINGS!!!!!!!”
And yes, he totally said it Shouty Caps style. Because that’s how I raised him; to scream at starving people. Show no mercy, son! NO MERCY!!
So after I handed off the uneaten strings, laughed and pondered my failure as a parent I poured a bowl of cereal and refused to talk to them until it was eaten. Except for when I had to get up and take Max to the bathroom. And break up a fight over a golf club. And refill Mason’s cup of water. And ask them to get three ice cubes out of the freezer because drinking bourbon neat before 9am is just uncivilized.
Then we went to the library. Where we should have checked out books on charity and great humanitarians but we didn’t. We opted for dump trucks and dinosaurs instead. And thus the cycle of egoism continues.