Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Survival of the Human Race

I find it quite amazing that the human race has actually made it this far. Seriously. I don’t know how kids live past the terrible twos. Last night was one of those 'I'm gonna kill my kid' nights. R was home and we decided to go to the supermarket for a family outing. Yes, we are a VERY exciting family. I needed to pick up a few odds and ends for the holiday and for baby J not to eat. As soon as we walked into the market the explosion began. Flailing his arms and screeching to get in or out of the shopping cart, whatever the case may have been. Somehow he has an impeccable sense for the most fragile item in the shopping cart. The eggs. When he was told many times and then very firmly by his dad that he cannot play with the eggs, his fit skyrocketed to a level that the aliens on other planets could hear. No wonder they leave crop circles in our fields. They are probably trying to tell us ‘Shut up!! I can’t hear myself think.’ We quickly checked out because there was no way that I went that far that I was going to leave my full shopping cart.

Getting to the car he calmed down a little bit. R started to put the groceries in the trunk while I got Baby J into his seat. You would have thought I put him into a tub of hot lava with the way he reacted to his seat. Somehow R got him strapped in to his chair of torture. We made our way 2 blocks down to go to one of Js favorite places, Chilis. He doesn’t seem to know the difference between and big red hot Chili and an apple, but we weren’t going to rain on his parade at this time. Crying and howling, we brought him in and asked for a table. I could have sworn he was hungry. R could have sworn he was hungry. We couldn’t get him in his high chair so I let him sit next to me in the booth and he was playing nicely with a truck that I believe is from Bob the Builder. He demanded to play with the strings to the blinds and I guess because we refused to let him do that, his delicious plate of wholesome macaroni and cheese found its way to every part of the table but his mouth. I think Daddy ate his french fries. The only way we were able to eat in peace and get the burning stares off of the back of our necks was to give him a nice size helping of the good ‘ole chocolate milk. Seems like it’s the only thing saving this kid from wrath worse than death. Maybe that is how this race survived. Chocolate milk!?

1 comment:

  1. Yup, Chocolate Milk. I'm sure of it!!! ;)

    Love your new site!

    ReplyDelete