The Correct Answer Is...

Mommy's primary, secondary, and tertiary daily goal

As a mother, I’m always trying to think on my toes and be prepared with the correct answer at all times.  Now, by correct, I absolutely do not mean accurate.  No, I mean the answer that will cause the fewest tantrums while not necessarily ruining my child forever and making him a brat.  It’s a delicate balance.

Naposaurus:  The MOST important dino

First of all, the answer to any question that ends in the phrase “after I take a nap” is always an emphatic “yes.” “Can I have candy after I take a nap?”  “Yes.”  “Mama, I love spaceships.  Can I fly in a spaceship after I take a nap?”  “Sure thing.”  “Mommy, can we go ride dinosaurs after I take a nap?”  “Yep, of course!”  Future be damned.  If Mommy answers these questions correctly, she’s about to get a break RIGHT NOW.  

Success

Another crucial time to get all the answers right is dinner.  One incorrect utterance could mean the difference between enjoying a quiet, peaceful family meal and shoveling food into your mouth as quickly as possible to just GET IT OVER WITH amidst shrieks and wails of discontent. I usually have a glass of red wine after dinner, and some nights (when I’m feeling REALLY crazy), I have two.  Well, tonight Daddy was in charge of cooking, and dinner was later than usual, so I was forced to drink before eating.  Dinner was a bit of a swirly, twirly dream (I have a pathetically low tolerance), but I do know that Big Boy was complaining that he needed a band-aid on his toe before he could eat his “circle chicken,” so Daddy gave him a big kiss.  Seemed like a pretty good move to me.  However, as soon as I heard the smooch, BB shrieked in horror.  Well, like I said, for me the goal is always to create a calm, tantrum-free toddler as soon as humanly possible.  This time I said, “Daddy’s kiss didn’t work, did it?  Oh, I’m so sorry.  Yeah, sometimes Daddy kisses just make it hurt worse.  Do you want Mommy to kiss it now instead?”  He nodded vigorously, I smooched his big toe, and he went back to quietly licking the ketchup off his chicken nuggets (I don’t know how it works for the rest of you, but in my house, they should just call those things “ketchup spoons.”  Dip, lick, dip, lick, dip, lick.  And….done).  Did that hurt Daddy’s feelings?  Probably.  Does Daddy throw tantrums when he gets his feelings hurt?  Nope, so he loses this particular match, and we all eat in peace.  Sorry Daddy.

And then there’s our time in the car.  We live in the country, so every drive is a long one.  Lately, any time I tell Big Boy we’re going somewhere, anywhere at all, he says he doesn’t want to go.  “I don’t want to go to the gym!”  Then, when I say we can just stay home, he says, “I DO want to go to the gym!”  Then we get into the car and start driving, at which point he says, “I don’t want to go to the gym!”  But then if I turn around, he says, “I DO want to go to the gym!”  You get the picture.  Then I put him into childcare, put on my headphones, get on the elliptical machine, and try not to dance or lip-sync (and REALLY try not to sing out loud) for an hour.  When I pick him up, the childcare director tells me how much fun he had, he comes out grinning, and we’re all golden.  Then as soon as we get into the car, he says, “I don’t like the gym.”  Now the one place he will always agree to go is the donut shop.   So usually if we’re on the way somewhere else, like maybe the doctor’s office for shots, I’ll just say we’re going to the donut shop.  Yes, yes, I’m a bad, bad lady.  I know.

Well, after church last week, Big Boy told me, “I like dat turch!  When we goin’ back??”  I had kind of forgotten that until today when it was time to go again.  Then I remembered and naively thought, “I’ve got this one in the bag.”  I loaded everyone up in the car, and BB asked, “Where are we goin?”  When I told him it was church, he asked, “Do they have a choo choo train?”  I figured they probably do have one in the toddler room, so I went with, “Yep, they do!”  (I was sure I had this answer nailed).  Nope, he started losing his ever-loving mind, trying to unfasten his car seat belt, and screaming, “No! I don’t wanna go da turch!”  What three year-old boy doesn’t want a train?  How did I possibly get that answer wrong???  So, of course, I quickly said, “Oh, no.  Actually, they don’t have a train there.  There is definitely no train. I was thinking of somewhere else.  No train.”  He immediately staunched the flow of tears, halted the flailing, looked me in the eyes and calmly asked, “Do they have a guitar?”  Uh….. At that point I just cranked up the radio and started singing along at the top of my lungs.  “Uncle.”