Tuesday, 27 March 2012

Right Idea, Wrong Execution

A couple of years ago, we were enjoying a very nice evening at home. I had made a lovely dinner of seafood linguine, that all of the family members just love. We were all in the middle of dinner when Everett announced that he had to go to the potty.

He had been doing very well in the training thus far, no accidents in quite some time. So well, in fact, that we decided to try and let him do this one on his own. Brian told him that he could go ahead and pee and come back so that he could continue eating his dinner. Away he went, and we just went about our lovely dinner conversation, waiting for the call to wash some little angel's hands. 

Everett sauntered back to the dining room, leaving his pants and underwear on the bathroom floor. He gingerly placed the bowl that Brody had discarded from his high chair onto the dining room table. He put it between Brian and I, looked from one to the other and exclaimed in the sweetest voice: "I peed in this bowl". 

Well, we thought he was lying, but it turns out that bowl was pretty warm. We were quite torn; we were proud that he'd done the job on his own, but less than thrilled with the execution of the task. Cue the laughter, of course. We may be the world's worst parents for discipline, but these kids are just too funny for their (and our) own good! Everett, on the other hand, was quite proud of his accomplishment. His big brother, Justin, just laughed and laughed. Well, I guess we all did. That was definitely putting the ass in a classy dinner!!!

                               (not my pasta, but close enough)

Thursday, 22 March 2012

El Diablo

I went to pick up Everett from the daycare a couple of weeks ago, when the teachers in his class asked to speak to me. They informed me that Everett had been wrestling with another boy, and had gotten kicked below his eye. They told me that they had spoken to both of the boys, but that Everett had not really learned his lesson.

I took Everett aside and asked how he had gotten that mark underneath his eye. I calmly told him that I had spoken to his teachers and that they had told me what happened. I even spoke to him in front of the teachers, so he would not be able to make up a story. I asked why he was wrestling and wouldn't listen. 

Here goes the rest of the interchange:

Everett: I wasn't wrestling or being bad, Mommy. (in an almost TOO convincing tone)

Me: Everett, now I know you're lying.

Everett: I'm not lying Mommy. (flutters eyelashes)

Me: Ok, Everett, if you're not lying, how exactly did you get that mark under your eye?

Everett: What this one?? (points at the mark)

Me: Yes, that one!

Everett: Ummmmm, that's an eye infection Mommy!!

Well, the teachers burst out laughing (which is completely understandable), and I try to stay as composed as I can. The teachers at the daycare are well versed in Everett's little schemes and they still love him :) At this point, I will only say that it's quite difficult to discipline a diabolical genius!! 

Thursday, 15 March 2012

The Annihilation!

So, many children have imaginary friends, right? Well, my 4 year old son, Everett, has an imaginary Mom. According to him, she lives in Africa, is brown and lives too far away for me to call her. Everett's "Real-Mom-From-Africa" shows up, of course, at times when he disagrees with my horrible decision-making skills as a parent. When asked to eat his vegetables, for example, Real-Mom-From-Africa would never do this. She lets him eat chocolate instead (that bitch). Of course, I can never confront her, because she has no phone and lives too far away, remember?

One day, while picking up Everett from the daycare, I was happy to hear that he had made a painting for me.
It is depicted below:

When I asked Everett what this beautiful (I know, it could be used in a Maddox book) painting depicted, I had no idea what I was in for.

Everett: That's you Mommy (on the right)
Me: Wow, who's that Everett? (pointing to the person on the left)
Everett: That's my Real-Mom-From-Africa
Me: Ok, what's going on here?
Everett: Ummmm, you shot my Real-Mom-From-Africa with your poop gun, and now she's dead.

I was secretly ecstatic that I had finally annihilated the other woman with her smug "I'm so better than you" attitude. All this time, she was letting MY son do whatever he wanted, leaving me to be the mean one. She absolutely deserved to get obliterated with my nasty poop gun!! Yes, people, I remember that she isn't real ;)

Is it sad that I can't help but think that this is one of the sweetest gestures this child has ever done for me?