Another day: another million snacks. It’s 10:29 a.m. We got up at 8:15. So far *for one kid* I have fixed oatmeal with blueberries and bananas, graham crackers and Nutella (served on a tray) and “can noodles and rice”. I know. It’s a monster of my own creation.
Also, I may complain about the frequency with which i must fix food (no less than every 10 minutes) but I’m very, very thankful that I have food to fix…so much food that my kids have CHOICES and will not go hungry for lack.
Now, not only does the Princess tell me exactly what she wants for snack (for example: Nutella-on-graham-crackers-with-chocolate-chips-you-put-them-on OR Nutella-on-graham-crackers-with-chocolate-chips-I’ll-put-them-on), NOW she dictates how I bring it to her. “On that black tray because I’m the princess.”
Maggie did something rude to Tommy then went and started climbing the doorway with a smirk on her face. I was getting on to her when she fell. She said “that’s my punishment. Go ahead and laugh if you want to.”
Maggie: if I have two things and one’s easy and one’s hard, I do the hard one first. I always keep that in a checklist. Are you wondering where it’s at? It’s in my brain.
Almost-asleep-Maggie: Mama, everything looks green. Does it look green to you? (No) look at the walls! They look green! (They ARE green.) Oh.
It’s a Pinterest thing but it goes with our Year Of Unicorns and Rainbows kindergarten theme. Predictably, mags tired of the project about half way through and I was left holding the bag hairdryer, but since the melty crayons tend to splatter, that was probably for the best.
Me: it’s 1:22 here so that means it’s 3:22 at Meema’s house.
Tommy: so one hour difference.
Me: no. Two.
Tommy: well by my calculations, it’s one.
Maggie: I agree with Tommo.
Tommy: for some reason, when you’re a teenager, you text a lot.
I’m not going to write a letter to Santa. He’s not even real. If he was real, why don’t people go up there and check it out. There’s probably just raw fish there.
Maggie: I just made up a new halloween game. It’s called “duck duck spider”.
[She quickly revised it to “pumpkin, pumpkin, spider”.]
Maggie: is there any way that food can get all the way from my stomach all the way to my neck? [yes. That’s called puking]
No, I mean like if it stacks up because I eat so much. Is that possible?