because it’s a part of the all-important, not-to-be-missed, Sunday Night Line-Up at our house. It’s practically a religious observation here. Why is this important, you wonder?
Because today, I walked into the living room and he and Babypoet had dumped not one but TWO boxes–two FULL boxes–of cereal all over the floor. Frosted Mini Chex and Homer’s Cinnamon Sugar Donuts were everywhere–and as a mom who rarely buy sugared cereals, this is very big news. The dogs had eaten as much as they could and were looking at me apologetically through their sugar-induced hazes. The babies had, after chowing down, apparently decided that stomping on the spilled cereal, a la grapemaking style, would be just the thing. My living room is very large, and I would estimate that 9/10ths of it was covered in this stuff.
I made very good use of my MotherVoice, sat Babypoet firmly on the couch, and told Littlepoet (the 3 YO) to sit down with her because they were in BIG. TROUBLE.
As he walked away, I heard this little voice: “You not the boss of ME, now.”
Right into You’veDoneItNowVoice mode I went: “Oh yes,” I said, “Actually, I AM the boss of you now. YOU are the little boy and I am the Mommy and that makes me the BOSS.”
“Oh, okay” he replied, never one to be rattled in the face of such fundamental truths.
So I turned away again, mentally patting myself on the back for being firm-but-fair, wondering whether to try to vacuum or to just throw the damn rugs out completely, and I heard an even smaller voice from behind me.
“…and you not so big,” he said.
Now I am just going to sit here and say to myself: I have the patience of a saint. I have the patience of a saint. I have the patience of a saint…
Clever woman. Maybe I’ll have to rearrange my kitchen cabinets yet again. Right now I keep spices up there, primarily because my oldest son, at the same age, decided that the garlic salt looked an awful lot like the nice-smelling powder that Aunt Becky puts on her carpet and it smells goooood! So he sprinkled an entire economy-sized container of garlic salt all over my new carpet.
My house smelled like an Italian restaurant for months.
This is why I only have area rugs instead of carpet!
Bwahahaha! At least you got to them before they decided throwing it would be a good time. I guarantee that was the next step.
And at least I know I’m not alone. “You not the boss of me!” Heh! I’ve actually heard that one, several times. My other favorite is “You’re a bad mom! ForEVER!”
bodypoet, the next time that little young’un tries to talk back using the “You’re not the boss of me now” in a vain attempt to avoid responsibility, you know how to respond, don’t you?