Happy Tuesday, y'all! Once again, I had a week mysteriously free from
major mishaps. I swear to God, before I started this blog feature I'd
have at least two days a week that were filled with catastrophe after
catastrophe: injuries, broken furniture, vomiting from both man and
beast. It was like an amateur wrestling competition up in here. Since I
started writing about aforementioned catastrophes and thus welcoming
them into my life, they've mysteriously dried up. Go figure (So, I guess
that's a Do That Tuesday for you: if everything's going wrong, try to
profit from it somehow, the evil chaos elves will stop throwing crap
your way if you start rolling in it).
I do have some minor Don't Do Thats like "Don't give a toddler his own coat to hold while you're getting the other two out of the car on a very rainy day. This will end with said toddler 'washing' his coat in a puddle" and "Don't say the word 'bioinformatics' to a raving lunatic working on his dissertation in evolutionary biology. This will result in a 45 minute lecture on how the entire field of biology is going to the Dark Side".
The most significant one I've got for you today, though, is a total rookie parenting mistake. By now, I should really know better, especially since the exact same thing happened 2 weeks ago and I made a mental note to never repeat this mistake. Let's face it, though, Mama's brain is a scary jumble of mental notes like a whiteboard covered with the manic scribblings of one suffering from hypergraphia. Thus, I bring you...
Don't Do That!: This morning, it was very rainy and floody (yes, that's a word), so we drove Dylan to work and then went out to run some errands. On the way to the store, Pippa Jane decided she was done with the car NOW. I was treated to 15 minutes of "DOWN! PLEASE! AAAAAAAAH! OOOOOOUUUUUCCCCH! DOWN! MOMMY! DOWN! OOOOOOOUUUUUUCCCCCHHH!" As this charming serenade was not only giving me a splitting headache, but was also causing S to cover his ears and bawl (thus adding to the din) and it continued into the parking lot of the grocery store where I was afraid someone would call CPS on me, I was desperate. Having tried just about everything else in my mommy arsenal, I turned to bribery.
"Pippa, if you stop crying, we can have pasta for lunch."
Immediate silence, followed by a small happy voice, "Pasha?"
"Yes, pasta! We just have to do our grocery shopping and then clean your room and RyRy's first."
"Pasha?"
"Yes, love," I replied, and thought, "How adorable she is! Listen to that little voice."
That adorable little voice continued like a hungry Italian parrot through the store.
She said "Pasha?" in the tea aisle while I attempted to distract her by letting her pick a tea. She said "Pasha?" near the dairy case. She said "Pasha?" in the vitamin aisle where I tried to pick an Omega-3 supplement and my addled brain wondered why none of the brands contained spaghetti as an ingredient. She said "Pasha?" in the chip aisle where I attempted to pick a treat for myself and gave up in favor of the thought of a large bowl of vegan mac and cheese which for some unknown reason kept popping into my head. She said "Pasha?" to the cashier who looked confused and offered her a sticker.
In the car, she amped up her campaign. She said, "Pashapashapashapashapasha!" all the way home. When I asked her to help clean up her toys she replied, "Pashapashapashapashapasha!" She followed 2 steps behind me while I vacuumed yelling, "PASHAPASHAPASHAPASHAPASHA!" I escaped into the bathroom for a moment's peace and as soon as I sat down, tiny fingers popped up from under the door and wiggled while their owner yelled, "PASHA? PASHA PLEASE MOMMY! PLEASE!"
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and I served lunch early. She took one look at her plate, yelled, "PASHA!" one final time and gathered a large armful of it and hugged it to her chest.
What can I say? Girlfriend loves her pasta.
I do have some minor Don't Do Thats like "Don't give a toddler his own coat to hold while you're getting the other two out of the car on a very rainy day. This will end with said toddler 'washing' his coat in a puddle" and "Don't say the word 'bioinformatics' to a raving lunatic working on his dissertation in evolutionary biology. This will result in a 45 minute lecture on how the entire field of biology is going to the Dark Side".
The most significant one I've got for you today, though, is a total rookie parenting mistake. By now, I should really know better, especially since the exact same thing happened 2 weeks ago and I made a mental note to never repeat this mistake. Let's face it, though, Mama's brain is a scary jumble of mental notes like a whiteboard covered with the manic scribblings of one suffering from hypergraphia. Thus, I bring you...
Don't Do That!: This morning, it was very rainy and floody (yes, that's a word), so we drove Dylan to work and then went out to run some errands. On the way to the store, Pippa Jane decided she was done with the car NOW. I was treated to 15 minutes of "DOWN! PLEASE! AAAAAAAAH! OOOOOOUUUUUCCCCH! DOWN! MOMMY! DOWN! OOOOOOOUUUUUUCCCCCHHH!" As this charming serenade was not only giving me a splitting headache, but was also causing S to cover his ears and bawl (thus adding to the din) and it continued into the parking lot of the grocery store where I was afraid someone would call CPS on me, I was desperate. Having tried just about everything else in my mommy arsenal, I turned to bribery.
"Pippa, if you stop crying, we can have pasta for lunch."
Immediate silence, followed by a small happy voice, "Pasha?"
"Yes, pasta! We just have to do our grocery shopping and then clean your room and RyRy's first."
"Pasha?"
"Yes, love," I replied, and thought, "How adorable she is! Listen to that little voice."
That adorable little voice continued like a hungry Italian parrot through the store.
She said "Pasha?" in the tea aisle while I attempted to distract her by letting her pick a tea. She said "Pasha?" near the dairy case. She said "Pasha?" in the vitamin aisle where I tried to pick an Omega-3 supplement and my addled brain wondered why none of the brands contained spaghetti as an ingredient. She said "Pasha?" in the chip aisle where I attempted to pick a treat for myself and gave up in favor of the thought of a large bowl of vegan mac and cheese which for some unknown reason kept popping into my head. She said "Pasha?" to the cashier who looked confused and offered her a sticker.
In the car, she amped up her campaign. She said, "Pashapashapashapashapasha!" all the way home. When I asked her to help clean up her toys she replied, "Pashapashapashapashapasha!" She followed 2 steps behind me while I vacuumed yelling, "PASHAPASHAPASHAPASHAPASHA!" I escaped into the bathroom for a moment's peace and as soon as I sat down, tiny fingers popped up from under the door and wiggled while their owner yelled, "PASHA? PASHA PLEASE MOMMY! PLEASE!"
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and I served lunch early. She took one look at her plate, yelled, "PASHA!" one final time and gathered a large armful of it and hugged it to her chest.
What can I say? Girlfriend loves her pasta.
This is the face of a girl stuffed to the gills with "pasha" |
So, what have we learned today, folks? Never, ever, ever, ever tell a toddler you are going to give her something she likes until you actually have it in your hand. Just, for the sake of your sanity, don't do that.
Sweet and adorable!
ReplyDeleteSo cute, so sweet and I have so been there!
ReplyDeleteLOL! I love me some pasta too. The girl's got taste.
ReplyDelete