Remind me again...
May. 22nd, 2006 03:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
agilebrit...why I became a parent?
So. Da Boy and I generally take an outing to Burger King once a week when the Hubby goes to work. It makes me not have to fix a meal, and they have a play area for after, while I finish my milkshake-y goodness. Now, going to BK is predicated on the assumption that Da Boy has been at least reasonably good that day--"reasonably good" being defined as "I didn't have to scream at him like a freakin' banshee and banish him to his room." Sounds simple, right? It's something I hang over his head, because I'm all for the carrot and stick approach.
So, I had the ginormous to-do list this morning. And I figured, okay, Burger King first, because that's a right turn onto this huge busy street instead of the left and then the quick right I have to make to get the car inspected, and then I can make a right turn to get the car inspected and go to the bank. Seemed logical, so off to BK we went. All was well there (other than the fact that he gave me a slight attitude about leaving, which was cured when I threatened to leave him there), and fine at the inspection place, because Bob the Builder was on TV there, woo-hoo!
We go to the bank, he wants a sucker. Too bad, so sad, they had stickers, not suckers. He was a little sucky about that to me. Fortunately, we were at the drive through, so the teller didn't have to see it.
Then I thought we'd go to Kid2Kid, a place where they have used stuff for children, to see if I could pick him up a cheapo toy to entertain himself with, because I was dumb and forgot to bring one along. Nothing struck my fancy there, too bad, so sad, off to the DMV. Let's write out the check at the traffic light, because that way it'll all be ready.
Oh, look, a Dollar Tree, right next door to the DMV. Now, Da Boy has tended to be grabby in places lately. Picking up stuff, examining it, putting it back. I told him not to touch anything.
Twice.
He snaps back "I NEED TO." Yes, capslock of rage.
O RLY? sez I. And we march right out of there without even finding the toy section. He throws. A. Tantrum. I give him a talking to outside the DMV. Basically tell him, You can be good, and I can get the car registered, and then we can go get chips and stuff before going home, or you can be rotten and we'll just go straight home with no chips, and not only that, but you'll be taking a NAP when we get there.
I gave him two chances. No dice. He starts flipping his shit before we walk in the door of the DMV, so I march him to the car and we come home. All the time he's whining and moaning and complaining and flipping his shit some more. He wants to go to Smith's and get chips. Guess what, Boy? Even if I were to get chips, I wouldn't share them with you! "I need to see a movie!" "You need to take a nap! OBVIOUSLY!" "I don't want to take a nap!" "HAH. TOO. BAD."
I win, in a manner of speaking, anyway. He's upstairs. In bed. I hope to God he's asleep. Not only has he blown any chance whatsoever of seeing a movie this afternoon, he's blown any chance he had whatsoever of us going to Burger King next week.
Never again. He wants to go to Burger King, he has to be good for the entire first day the Hubby's gone, and the morning after. Because, as aforementioned, I have no caffeine-y goodness right now because we didn't stop at the grocery store, and I got up absurdly early this morning. Not only that, but the check I wrote at the stop light is going to waste, because, dude? Not driving all the way back there with the price of gas the way it is. I'll register the thing online like I should have in the first damb place.
RAWR.
At least we finally got our refund from the IRS today. Furniture ahoy! *does a little dance*
ETA: Oh, no, he wasn't tired at all. I set the timer for an hour, it goes off, and I go up to tell him he can get up now? He's crashed and burned. Barely twitched when I opened his door and let the dog out of his room. I'll have to get him up because otherwise he won't want to go to bed tonight, but...yeah. Tired Boy.
So. Da Boy and I generally take an outing to Burger King once a week when the Hubby goes to work. It makes me not have to fix a meal, and they have a play area for after, while I finish my milkshake-y goodness. Now, going to BK is predicated on the assumption that Da Boy has been at least reasonably good that day--"reasonably good" being defined as "I didn't have to scream at him like a freakin' banshee and banish him to his room." Sounds simple, right? It's something I hang over his head, because I'm all for the carrot and stick approach.
So, I had the ginormous to-do list this morning. And I figured, okay, Burger King first, because that's a right turn onto this huge busy street instead of the left and then the quick right I have to make to get the car inspected, and then I can make a right turn to get the car inspected and go to the bank. Seemed logical, so off to BK we went. All was well there (other than the fact that he gave me a slight attitude about leaving, which was cured when I threatened to leave him there), and fine at the inspection place, because Bob the Builder was on TV there, woo-hoo!
We go to the bank, he wants a sucker. Too bad, so sad, they had stickers, not suckers. He was a little sucky about that to me. Fortunately, we were at the drive through, so the teller didn't have to see it.
Then I thought we'd go to Kid2Kid, a place where they have used stuff for children, to see if I could pick him up a cheapo toy to entertain himself with, because I was dumb and forgot to bring one along. Nothing struck my fancy there, too bad, so sad, off to the DMV. Let's write out the check at the traffic light, because that way it'll all be ready.
Oh, look, a Dollar Tree, right next door to the DMV. Now, Da Boy has tended to be grabby in places lately. Picking up stuff, examining it, putting it back. I told him not to touch anything.
Twice.
He snaps back "I NEED TO." Yes, capslock of rage.
O RLY? sez I. And we march right out of there without even finding the toy section. He throws. A. Tantrum. I give him a talking to outside the DMV. Basically tell him, You can be good, and I can get the car registered, and then we can go get chips and stuff before going home, or you can be rotten and we'll just go straight home with no chips, and not only that, but you'll be taking a NAP when we get there.
I gave him two chances. No dice. He starts flipping his shit before we walk in the door of the DMV, so I march him to the car and we come home. All the time he's whining and moaning and complaining and flipping his shit some more. He wants to go to Smith's and get chips. Guess what, Boy? Even if I were to get chips, I wouldn't share them with you! "I need to see a movie!" "You need to take a nap! OBVIOUSLY!" "I don't want to take a nap!" "HAH. TOO. BAD."
I win, in a manner of speaking, anyway. He's upstairs. In bed. I hope to God he's asleep. Not only has he blown any chance whatsoever of seeing a movie this afternoon, he's blown any chance he had whatsoever of us going to Burger King next week.
Never again. He wants to go to Burger King, he has to be good for the entire first day the Hubby's gone, and the morning after. Because, as aforementioned, I have no caffeine-y goodness right now because we didn't stop at the grocery store, and I got up absurdly early this morning. Not only that, but the check I wrote at the stop light is going to waste, because, dude? Not driving all the way back there with the price of gas the way it is. I'll register the thing online like I should have in the first damb place.
RAWR.
At least we finally got our refund from the IRS today. Furniture ahoy! *does a little dance*
ETA: Oh, no, he wasn't tired at all. I set the timer for an hour, it goes off, and I go up to tell him he can get up now? He's crashed and burned. Barely twitched when I opened his door and let the dog out of his room. I'll have to get him up because otherwise he won't want to go to bed tonight, but...yeah. Tired Boy.
