Why is it my son who would go an entire week in the same underwear needs to be constantly reminded that he can wear the same pajamas a couple of nights in a row? Not that that’s the point right now. It’s a genuine question. I simply don’t understand. And why can he remember every level of card-jitsu in Club Penguin but can’t remember what he did in school five minutes after the bell rings?
My kids are in a mood today. Both of them. Pie had a complete meltdown on the way home from walking the boy to school because I mentioned we might go swimming this weekend. It’s supposed to be 80 on Sunday. Pie has been begging to swim. We can go. But I happened to mention that the outdoor pool at the Y was opening, and that sent her off into convulsions. She doesn’t want to swim outside. She only wants to swim inside. And only now. Not on Sunday. Thirty minutes of tears commenced.
My son, meanwhile, spends all his time locked up in his room, rereading Diary of a Wimpy Kid (books 1 through 4) or his new discovery, Calvin and Hobbes comics. I forced him outside. Harumph. Given their mood, I thought we should have a nice mellow family night. How about a movie? We can all watch the first Shrek. He hates Shrek. No, he’s never seen it. No, he doesn’t know what it’s about. He hates it. He’ll watch a different movie on his iPod. Okay, then, I say, no movie night. “Oh, oh-kay. I’ll watch Shrek!” Thanks for the favor.
The best part about all of this? It’s a three-day weekend. I get three days of loveliness from my children. And even better? Only two and a half more weeks of school for Pie and three and a half for Doodles. And then there all mine! Whaa haa haa haa ha! Thank goodness drinking white wine or sangrias at noon in the summer is acceptable. It is right? Right?
