I was going to put something in the title about being a good mother, as I was ruminating over the fact that I committed myself to accompanying one very big boy and two small boys to the Monster Truck Jam next weekend. At which time, the girls are having a hair day at the salon. That is, all the girls except me. So I was feeling the sacrifice and having a moment of martyrdom. I would so much prefer getting chunky highlights and a fresh new do to sitting in an arena with thousands of people watching ridiculous behemoth vehicles and their antics. Grave Digger will be there. My nephew is VERY excited. I even got pit passes so we could go early and take pictures among the vehicles on display. And if they’re so inclined, they can stand in line for autographs. I do hope they are not so inclined. Hair day. Truck day. Hair day. Truck day. Such a martyr.
Then I heard those little feet making their way down the stairs, and I realized that those same little feet had been up the stairs for quite some time now, and very, very quiet. And the last time I’d seen those small feet, in fact, the small hands that accompany them were in possession of a tube of toothpaste. Albeit a child-friendly non-fluoridated Thomas the Train tube of toothpaste. But a tube of toothpaste all the same. A tube, I feared, the entire contents of which could well now be sloshing about in my son’s stomach. So. Awesome martyr-mom quickly replaced with lazy ignorant sorry excuse for a mother.
Did you brush your teeth?
Yes.
Is the toothpaste all gone?
No. (She masks a sigh of relief and continues the interrogation.)
Did you put the toothpaste back?
Yes.
What else were you doing?
I wash my hands.
Did you turn the water off?
Yes.
Did you make a big mess?
No.
Did you make a little mess?
Yes.
Okay. (I’m so proud of him for telling the truth.)
He’s going through a water obsession phase right now. Our fancy new fridge that we bought expressly for the child lock feature (okay, so we also got it with aesthetic considerations in mind as well) locks only the temperature control, but not the water and ice. So what’s the point in that? Now I have to keep a mindful eye on my child and teach him to leave it alone. It would be so much easier if it weren’t possible for him to get to the water until he’s smart enough to figure out how to override the lock, at which point in time he should well enough be able to obey when I say not to play with and waste water.
Child obedience. It’s a lofty goal. How does one actually get a child to obey? I think I might need to start recording Super Nanny again, for some pointers. Or am I just expecting too much from a three year old?
