How I make my kids cry
Contrary to my children’s belief, I do not lay in bed at night wondering how I can make their lives miserable. We wake up together every morning, and every morning, there is inevitably a meltdown comparable to the beginning of World War 3.
Every morning my 2-year-old, Jude, has the same breakfast, a waffle and a banana. And every morning Jude ends up rolling in tears because he wants butter on his waffle like his older brother, my 7-year-old, John. I end up putting butter on his waffle (knowing very well John will end up with the buttered waffle) and as soon as Jude sees a smear of butter, the waterfall of tears begin. All said and done, John eats the buttered waffle and Jude gets a new waffle with no butter. Jude thinks he is 7. Usually, I respect and encourage this desire to be independent, but watching him struggle and throw temper tantrum after temper tantrum every morning because he can’t fit his head into the arm hole of his shirt, or get both legs into one pant hole of his shorts is exhausting. So, I do what most loving, caring, moms would do when they see a 2-year-old in distress, and try to help. This is a bad idea in our house. It could take an hour, but Jude will get dressed by himself!
John on the other hand doesn’t understand that his only duties in the morning are to get dressed, brush his hair, and brush his teeth. Then, and only then is he allowed to turn on cartoons. He has 3 measly steps until he has 100 percent of my permission to get dissolved into the world of Sponge Bob Square Pants. 3 steps that would literally take him 5 minutes. Instead, John spends a good hour whining and groaning about how all he wants to do is watch cartoons and how unfair I am.
At home, both of my kids think I am quite possibly the meanest mom in the world. Then magically, at drop off, John decides he would love for me to visit him at lunch and Jude refuses to leave my side. I have decided they are definitely in cahoots! Then, every morning, once they’re gone, the silence in my car is almost unnatural; I secretly can’t wait for the insanity of that evening!
