When the Weekend Can't Come Fast Enough

Allow me to set the scene. Our house, this morning (you totally know where this is going, right? What is it about this week’s mornings?).

Leo ate a good breakfast of French toast (frozen from TJ’s, before you get all impressed with me) and got dressed without too much argument. Then he decided he wanted cereal with milk, so he did what he is apt to do, “put his order in.” He goes into the refrigerator and/or cupboards and places what he’d like to eat on the kitchen counter.

That was all fine and swell and I would have been agreeable to Leo having “second breakfast,” except that it was about 7:40, the bus was imminent and by no means did I want a repeat of yesterday. I told Leo this and so my little mule and I had a quiet war. I put the carton of milk back in the refrigerator and the cereal back in the cupboard and he trailed behind me and took both items back out and placed them on the counter. We did little dance about ten times.

That. Boy. Is. Stubborn.

Seriously, sometimes the number of times I have to say something to him (such as, Leo, there is no time for cereal, the bus is coming and you don’t want them to leave you like they did yesterday do you?), well, I get on my own damn nerves.

The bus came. I panicked briefly when it appeared briefly that Leo was not going to go outside. But I cheerfully “redirected” him with clapping! and exclamation about his lizard! (Remember, the famous rubber lizard). And how exciting would it be to show the bus driver his gecko! (Because really, can you think of anything better?).

I should pause here to add that while all this was going on, Ellie was sitting on the little potty that we glamorously keep in the living room (no bathroom on our main floor—I know, I know, don’t even get me started).

Every morning we go to the bus as threesome. Usually Leo makes the dash across the lawn while I hold Ellie and she does her usual coy wave and sometimes even deigns a smile with the bus driver and aide.

Today though, with Ellie on the potty and the clock ticking and the bus waiting, I called to Ellie over my shoulder as I led Leo outside that we’d be right back. Clearly this was SO not OK with her. Because the next thing I knew, Leo was frozen on the lawn, refusing to get on the bus because Ellie was standing on the front porch with her pants around her ankles and the tears flowing. Between the volume of her cries and the fact that she was clearly unhappy (Leo is very empathetic, especially to Ellie), well that was it. Leo was going no where.

This was one of those Classic Parenthood Moments where I really did wonder where the Candid Camera was hidden. I mean, what a sight. The half naked, hysterically crying toddler, the trying-to-remain calm mother, carrying her kicking and protesting kindergartner across the grass.

Sometimes, all you can really do is laugh.

And take deep breathes. Deep, deep breaths.