My wonderful Mother-in-law cooked a perfect meal and my children would only eat bread and large knifings of butter. And then cried for ice cream and popsicles.
Every single time we go over there, they do not eat.
They just whine and beg to get down and when's dessert? and whine whine whine.
Do they ever eat?
Yes- at home! at restaurants! at school! at my parents' house! THEY EAT! I PROMISE YOU.
But here, where we would like to appear somewhat like good parents? As they scuffle and hit each other at the nice dining table? With cloth napkins and gold napkin rings.
They turn into little people I do not know and my heart goes into a panic that OH MY GOSH WHAT IF THIS IS WHAT THEY ARE REALLY LIKE?
What if these ARE the children I've created. What if this IS the behavior that I've instilled in them with my awesome parenting skillz? What if this is IT?
What if there are no take-backs?
OMG.
We get home, arms full of leftovers, and at dinner time the kids eat. They eat the very things they refused to eat at Grandma and Grandpa's.
They sit and talk respectfully to each other. There is no whining here. They are happy! And I almost grab my Flip video as proof to show the in-laws.
Well, Gray still stomps and pouts and demands A FORK! for his ice cream instead of a spoon.
(Of course I rewarded their awful actions today with ice cream- what kind of Mother do you think I am?)
*Nervous laugh*
Please don't answer that.
*****************************************************************************
I wrote the above and then shuffled the kids off to get ready for bed.
They washed their faces and brushed their teeth after only one asking.
I beat the world 8 castle of Super Mario Bros. on the DS for them and earned the title of Bestest Mommy and Mario Player Ever. They made Ivy laugh. We talked about Easter and what it means...
In their own words:
Like how I wasn't good at Grandma's today? And wanted that chocolate popsicle?
Like how I cried? And we were a little bad?
God gave his only son for us, because we aren't good sometimes. He's the only perfect one. We aren't.
My heart beats fast and I am so proud of these children. They aren't perfect. And neither am I.
Originally posted 4/12/09.
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