No Use Crying Over Spilled Pins, or Peas, or Rice, or Popcorn
Kids are messy. I get that. However, simultaneously tonight at dinner time Aislinn spilled a bowl of peas in the kitchen and Lauren spilled a box of straight pins in the dining room. Is there a better one-two punch of things that you don't want to feel underfoot?
I decided to go for the straight pins first since the girls were determined to help me clean up, one pin at a time. If I hadn't ordered them into their chairs to eat (and what a quiet, empty-plate producing dinnertime it was since for lunch the three of them split 2 Target soft pretzels and some sugar-free lemonade (Good Parenting Chapter 11)) they would have spent the next two hours picking up the pins one by one, repeatedly poking themselves and crying in the process.
From my vantage point under Lauren's chair, I got a live demonstration of how the floor in the dining room gets so messy so quickly. There was no huge avalanche of food from above. Instead, slowly, the rice and peas began to descend from the table to the floor, maybe one grain or one pea for every three spoonfuls scooped up and eaten. Everytime one hit the floor I noticed it, because my peripheral vision is sharply attuned to small moving objects that could be bugs. By the time I had picked up all the pins, and had gone over the rug with a flashlight, and then finally, had reluctantly run my hand over the area, Aislinn was done eating and asked for seconds.
I took her plate straight to the oven and stepped right on the spilled peas.
Later, we all sat down to watch a movie together and Marty wanted to turn out the lights like a movie theater. When the lights were out, he asked for popcorn. I was so tired he could have asked for and received the keys to the car at that point. So we had popcorn, because it is only fair to make the living room rug a mess if the dining room rug is a mess.
And so they are. Any conscientious objectors from the local cricket population can feel free to come get some alternative eats tonight from our rugs, provided that they retreat to the closets by sunrise.
The closets, not the toilets.
I decided to go for the straight pins first since the girls were determined to help me clean up, one pin at a time. If I hadn't ordered them into their chairs to eat (and what a quiet, empty-plate producing dinnertime it was since for lunch the three of them split 2 Target soft pretzels and some sugar-free lemonade (Good Parenting Chapter 11)) they would have spent the next two hours picking up the pins one by one, repeatedly poking themselves and crying in the process.
From my vantage point under Lauren's chair, I got a live demonstration of how the floor in the dining room gets so messy so quickly. There was no huge avalanche of food from above. Instead, slowly, the rice and peas began to descend from the table to the floor, maybe one grain or one pea for every three spoonfuls scooped up and eaten. Everytime one hit the floor I noticed it, because my peripheral vision is sharply attuned to small moving objects that could be bugs. By the time I had picked up all the pins, and had gone over the rug with a flashlight, and then finally, had reluctantly run my hand over the area, Aislinn was done eating and asked for seconds.
I took her plate straight to the oven and stepped right on the spilled peas.
Later, we all sat down to watch a movie together and Marty wanted to turn out the lights like a movie theater. When the lights were out, he asked for popcorn. I was so tired he could have asked for and received the keys to the car at that point. So we had popcorn, because it is only fair to make the living room rug a mess if the dining room rug is a mess.
And so they are. Any conscientious objectors from the local cricket population can feel free to come get some alternative eats tonight from our rugs, provided that they retreat to the closets by sunrise.
The closets, not the toilets.
posted by Shannon at 11:32 PM
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