Life With Small Children

Today I joined in some joyful commiseration about young children with a much better blogger than myself. I recounted how in 28 days we will have a four-year-old in this house and the injustices he suffers when a word he spells is not a word at all or when his feelings are hurt because his older brother gave him a funny look bring on the tears and the “Litany of Every Wrong Ever Done  Him” in his short life.

And that older brother, the one who just turned 5 AND A HALF is the one who dissolves into tears when little brother doesn’t want to play Super Smash Bros Brawl with him after hours of play and who after months of fighting me about going to school has  gone willingly and happily two days in a row now.

I was told that it was better I had two boys because girls are NOTHING but drama. At least Shelby’s drama is not of her own creating. But small children do not like boxes and categories when it comes to behavior and personality. And so my little boys BRING THE DRAMA.

This weekend I worked an insane amount. I was scheduled for six and a half hours Saturday during the day, which I worked. But half way through my shift, my boss asked me if I could come back and work another five hours in the evening for a co-worker who had a family emergency. I said yes without hesitation. That kindness had been done for me once before. I scooted home for a couple of hours and told Jeff and the kids. Will was heartbroken. He cried and I heard the Litany. I held him and stroked his hair listening as I always do and told him how when he was very sick and had to ride in a helicopter to the hospital someone I worked with took my shift and I was doing that for someone else now. He asked if he could pray for my co-worker, her family and her situation and I agreed it was a good idea so we said a prayer together. Jeff threw dinner into full force and a couple of hours later I was back at work. I got home close to 11 and went to sleep.

The next day I had a seven hour shift plus Mass. I planned to brown bag my lunch and was all ready to go when Jeff announced he wanted to take all 3 kids to a new park that just opened. Which meant I had to load the kids into his car and dress and change Shelby because she never got out of her pajamas. I left lunch sitting on the counter.

When I got home that evening, tired and happy. Jeff informed me the park was a total bust. It is mostly walking trails and the kids were not impressed. That’s the thing about small children. They are often not easy to please and when they are not pleased, they have no qualms about letting you know about it.

Then Jeff told me about the day’s high, er, lowlight. A wasp got into our house. Insects get into homes, it happens. But when a certain five-AND-A-HALF-year-old boy has been trained since infancy to hate and fear the said insect because his father does, well, what ensues is pure chaos and hilarity if you didn’t have to endure it.

Apparently Joey screamed. Then he ran into his room then he screamed again. Then he was shaking and crying all the while Jeff is chasing the wasp through the house and cursing (honesty here people) and trying to kill it. Will is a witness chasing Jeff. And Shelby is outside in her sensory swing happily oblivious to the fact that her father is effectively tearing the house from its foundation to kill a wasp while her younger brother is losing his ever-loving mind.

Finally the wasp is killed and disposed of, however, Joey is now refusing to play outside. Will, although traumatized, is not as severe as Joey and agrees to go out with Jeff as he checks the oil and color with sidewalk chalk. Shelby remains oblivious.

So, I fail at trying not to laugh when Jeff tells me all this when I get home from work. I’m sorry, but it didn’t happen to me, so it’s hilarious. Jeff is obviously very grateful to see me and has new found respect for “she-who-stays-home-with-small-children-all-day.”

Fast forward to yesterday. I’m an idiot sometimes and  yesterday afternoon was one of those times. I locked my house keys in the house (long story but my car key was off the key ring and I forgot to grab the rest of my keys on the way out). So I left the boys on the front porch and went through the fence to get the spare key, but lucky me, I left the sliding glass door unlocked so I just walked right in the back and let them in. And I left the sliding glass door open. It wasn’t a conscious thing, I just didn’t shut it.

Joey and Will walk in and immediately Joey  yells, “WHY IS THAT DOOR OPEN! YOU COULD LET A WASP IN THE HOUSE!!!” Because small children have memories like it’s nobody’s business because they aren’t old enough to have learned yet that sometimes that biochemical reaction of forgetting can be a good and merciful thing.

I casually told him I left it open and that, “I saw a  bumblebee pollinating the Lady Banks Roses!”

He was livid and closed the door.

Now today, I left the door open when I let the dog out because holy crackerjacks we hopscotched over spring and right into summer and it’s 80 degrees out. And I’m too cheap to turn on the AC in April and it helps to have air flow with the door open.

Joey is at school. Will, however, is, per his usual schedule, at home with me. And upon seeing the door open calmly goes and shuts it and says to me very sternly, “We do not want to have a wasp in the house again. That is a VERY BAD THING for Joe.” Then smiles and goes to play with cards.

Small children like to show off when they’ve learned something new.

Today’s post was brought to you by the letters: N, F, and A. As in “not from autism” was this most recent small child induced insect-anity.

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