I do not know if it is the weather, too much time together, or payback for registering them for swim lessons in the middle of February, but lately my kids have been bound and determined to throw me under the bus.
Just yesterday, my oldest son and I bickered throughout the morning over his packing his own lunch. Danny eventually acquiesced, but in typical last-word fashion, made it clear to the world that he felt his mother was extremely derelict in her duties:
No sooner had one skirmish ended than another began. My youngest son Joey had somehow managed to finagle an empty bottle of Crown Royal from his grandfather last week. I am told he expressed deep regard for it being “pretty” and “shiny.” Grandpa (being a grandpa) immediately rinsed it out and happily obliged, completely unaware of the battle royal that would follow.
I found Joey at the kitchen table yesterday with his prized possession carefully placed within arm’s reach.
I began questioning my kindergartner on his intentions for the morning as I nervously eyed his new breakfast sidekick.
“I’m gonna take dis bottle to school to show all my friends!”
Only upon threats of a life without cookies, toys, and video games was I able to get Joey to release his death grip on the Canadian Whiskey bottle.
He is still insisting on bringing it to Show & Tell Friday.
I called my dad to inform him that the next time he gives away a Crown Royal bottle, it best go to me.
And he should make absolutely sure it’s full.
Like I said, it’s been a long winter.
