If The Eggs Turn Purple, What Does THAT Mean?
My son only wants to do kitchen experiments at inopportune moments. This morning, he made a concoction of seltzer, food coloring, cinnamon and whisked egg and asked me to cook it on the stove- just to see what would happen. I told him it would probably be inedible but he demanded that I cook it anyway. I am stupid and indulgent (not to mention a little curious myself) and so I obliged. The result was a foamy, purply-green mess which he then offered to Tommer as a gift.
Eat it Daddy! It's for you!
Oh Lord! Poor Tommer. He side stepped it as gracefully as he could and I offered to teach Sullivan how to poach an egg tomorrow morning which only distracted him for a brief moment. I always wanted a creative kid who was curious about the world. Oh baby, be careful what you wish for or you might find yourself with a kid who wants to build a life sized evil robot out of box cutters and rusty tin cans. To him, that seems reasonable. Hey, I don't care if you do with when your fifteen, just not now! He always counters any dismissal from me with "I'll be careful!"
Fuckin' pigeon.
And by Pigeon I mean the demanding pigeon in Mo Willems stellar kids books. There's "Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus", "The Pigeon Finds a Hot Dog" and "Don't Let the Pigeon Stay Up Late". These books are hysterical (in that 5 year old kind of way) but Sullivan has learned one too many tactics from this pigeon. In "Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus" the book starts out with the bus driver asking the reader not to let the pigeon drive the bus. Then the rest of the book is about the pigeon nagging, begging, pleading and trying to sneak his way into the driver's seat. It's the kid's job to say no. Well, my kid likes to say yes to the pigeon. He enjoys the mayhem that ensues as the "bus" (represented by the book) gets out of control and crashes. Then I have to prompt him to make the correct choice, but no! Screwing up is much funnier. One of these days I'm going to crash the bus and then throw a dead pigeon at him and see if he begins to comprehend the consequences of his irresponsibility!
Can you imagine the screaming? Well, the screaming from me anyway. Sullivan would probably want to dissect the damn thing and label its innerds. Mommy, how do you spell pancreas? Curious little S.O.B. (You do know who the "B" is in this scenario, don't you?)
I'm begining to realize that my time at home might be easier if he had a little brother or sister to push around instead of me. I was too terrified to have another kid after I saw how much work it is in the begining. Now I'm seeing the work start to pay off in my friends' families and now the joke's on me. Perhaps it is too late for me to reap the benefits of a sibling?
Maybe I can rent a sibling for the summer...
Eat it Daddy! It's for you!
Oh Lord! Poor Tommer. He side stepped it as gracefully as he could and I offered to teach Sullivan how to poach an egg tomorrow morning which only distracted him for a brief moment. I always wanted a creative kid who was curious about the world. Oh baby, be careful what you wish for or you might find yourself with a kid who wants to build a life sized evil robot out of box cutters and rusty tin cans. To him, that seems reasonable. Hey, I don't care if you do with when your fifteen, just not now! He always counters any dismissal from me with "I'll be careful!"
Fuckin' pigeon.
And by Pigeon I mean the demanding pigeon in Mo Willems stellar kids books. There's "Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus", "The Pigeon Finds a Hot Dog" and "Don't Let the Pigeon Stay Up Late". These books are hysterical (in that 5 year old kind of way) but Sullivan has learned one too many tactics from this pigeon. In "Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus" the book starts out with the bus driver asking the reader not to let the pigeon drive the bus. Then the rest of the book is about the pigeon nagging, begging, pleading and trying to sneak his way into the driver's seat. It's the kid's job to say no. Well, my kid likes to say yes to the pigeon. He enjoys the mayhem that ensues as the "bus" (represented by the book) gets out of control and crashes. Then I have to prompt him to make the correct choice, but no! Screwing up is much funnier. One of these days I'm going to crash the bus and then throw a dead pigeon at him and see if he begins to comprehend the consequences of his irresponsibility!
Can you imagine the screaming? Well, the screaming from me anyway. Sullivan would probably want to dissect the damn thing and label its innerds. Mommy, how do you spell pancreas? Curious little S.O.B. (You do know who the "B" is in this scenario, don't you?)
I'm begining to realize that my time at home might be easier if he had a little brother or sister to push around instead of me. I was too terrified to have another kid after I saw how much work it is in the begining. Now I'm seeing the work start to pay off in my friends' families and now the joke's on me. Perhaps it is too late for me to reap the benefits of a sibling?
Maybe I can rent a sibling for the summer...
posted by Bree O'Connor at 12:16 AM
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