Lunch time is always eventful in our house. You’d think it would run more smoothly considering it happens every single day. But, no, we just don’t have the hang of this yet.
There’s always a fight over what they are actually going to eat. They want mac and cheese. I feed them peanut butter and jelly. I don’t have the patience to wait for the water to boil. And yes, I’m aware of the fact that speaks volumes about my parenting abilities…
So after we (I) agree on sandwiches I go to work assembling them.
Since I make the same thing every day I have to go ahead and brag about my ‘putting peanut butter on bread’ skills. I think I’m pretty good at it. But without fail Carter still examines his sandwich when I’m done.
“Mom, I’m just gonna open this up and see if you got it right, OK?”
The quality control department is my house is brutal.
I don’t usually get it wrong, though. I know that Carter likes JUST peanut butter while Grant enjoys a touch of jelly. Carter also knows that Grant likes jelly…and he use that knowledge to torture his brother:
“Why is your brother screaming?”
“Cause he wants jelly on his sandwich but I’m singing a song called ‘Grant’s only getting peanut butter’.”
And he, in fact, WAS singing that song. It had verses and a chorus and everything. I couldn’t even be that mad. I had to admire his creativity. Nice work, Cart…now stop being a prick.
I try to fly through lunch as quickly as possible. Cause know what follows lunchtime? NAPTIME!
Sometimes my lunchtime laziness gets a little ridiculous. Like today for example, I didn’t feel like taking the jelly out of the fridge so I told the kids the jelly was broken. Carter called my bluff:
“Can you tell me exactly HOW the jelly got broken?”
No, I cannot. It just got broken, alright?
He was absolutely NOT buying my bullshit story about the broken jelly. And he doesn’t even LIKE jelly! He was just representing his brother’s interests…which is odd, cause yesterday he composed a little ditty about denying Grant jelly.
Once that’s all squared away I get the boys a drink.
Now, see, I personally think water tastes the same no matter what color cup it’s in. My kids disagree.
“I WANT THE RED CUP!”
“NO! I WANT THE RED CUP!”
So there were my children, prepared to fight to the death over the magical red cup. Honest to God, these are the problems that rock their world.
The next day I thought I’d be smarter and give them both the same exact cup. Let me repeat that: the SAME EXACT cup. It took them a minute but they eventually figured out a way to turn that into an argument:
“I want the one on the right!”
“NO! I do. You take the one on the left!”
It took all my God-given strength not to pour the water over their heads, sneak off with the red cup on the right and fill it with tequila…