Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Division of Labor

"I want more noodles."

"How do you ask?"

"Pleeeeeeeeeease," The Boy said. "But, I only want PLAIN noodles."

"You're getting sauce. You --"

"I ONLY WANT PLAIN!"

"Excuse me. You'll get noodles with sauce, which is good for you, or you'll get none."

"But," he started to whine before I cut him off. We had just finished an 8-hour day in the car, the second day in our trek back from Ohio. My tolerance for whining, never great, was finished.

"Sauce? Or nothing?"

"FINE. Noodles with sauce ... please," The Boy said, pouting. "Grammy let me have plain noodles."

"I bet she did," I said, scooping up noodles. I watched him hang his head and stick out his chin.

"Boy, do you know what my job is as your momma?" He shook his head. "It's to make you a decent human being. To make you strong and healthy and a good person. Do you know what your grammy and granny Annie's job is? To spoil you rotten."

He grinned and I headed back to the table with the bowl of noodles covered in a marinara sauce that at least let me pretend that we were getting our vegetables after two days of fast food.

"And just think," I said, "there are TWO of them to spoil you and only one of me to boss you."

"Yeah," he giggled. But then his face fell. "But Daddy does it, too."

"True. But you have two grandpas to outnumber him. You'll get plenty of spoiling. And, we haven't even talked about your great grandparents. ...."

He finished his noodles smiling.

1 comment:

Shalini said...

Awww, I love your explanation. (My kids wouldn't have taken the noodles. *sighs*)