Which means all dinners until further notice are prepared by my Husband and consumed on the back porch. Also known as the residence of Big M. Off course the dog is kind and lets us crash in his bachelors pad.
We in return gave him some lovely bones. He took them in the middle of the backyard, also known as his snacking area.
Then this cheeky crow appeared. He was eyeing the bone and kept creeping up on our dog. To our surprise dog stood up, returned onto the porch and let the crow finish his bone. I was in shock but Husband was quick to educate me crows are very intelligent and probably have a hit on Big M. This is a short recap of the five minute story Husband, who clearly watched way too much Sopranos, came up with:
Silly, I know.
Except the crow then walked up to Big M’s water bowl, drank out of it, took a nice bath, pooped on his way out, glanced one last time in my dog’s direction and flew away.
Look, I have seen Birds. Maybe Hitchcock and Husband are right…
We were sitting on the front porch after walking the dog, enjoying the sunshine and killing time before Preschool. After I realized the door was locked and checked the alternative three entrances, I called Husband at work and asked for help. I hate asking him to do things for me. Especially when I make a mistake and am in my rare, vulnerable, ‘not perfect’ state. Sure it was bad we were running late and I had to come back home to change into my riding gear. But looking into Husband’s eyes and scrambling for explanation on why I had no key ( do you take keys to sit on a front porch?!) really put a damper on my week.
Fast forward to this evening and Little J and I are having dinner. He does his usual ‘anywhere but sitting at the table’ routine and insist of having to go potty. But this time he says he has to go again a few minutes later. As he reaches the bathroom, he is calling for help. Apparently there is a problem with the door.
Sure enough, the door is locked. He turned the lock on the inside and after closing the door, it locked. I told him to go upstairs, fixed the door while he was gone, then gave him the speech on why never to do that again.
The fact that he did it to the upstairs bathroom so he could not go and brush his teeth before bedtime I will contribute to his sense of humor. I sat him down:
Me: “Did I tell you downstairs never to lock the doors again?
Little J: “I don’t remember”
Me: “What was the number on the fire engine parked on our street last month?”
Little J: “81”
I rest my case.
After I tucked him in and came downstairs I found the bathroom locked again. So I think it is safe to say we have solved the mystery of the Tuesday fiasco. See darling, I am perfect after all, but that son of yours…
We all have grand ideas. Our kids will be talented, successful and all that jazz. I am of a thought he will be who he will be and I have a rather good feeling about it. Lucky for me little J rarely disappoints. He is great to be around and lots of fun. But dinner time is… Perhaps a little bit of a let down. Granted this is a sore spot for husband and I since we are a tad snobby about food, really enjoy cooking(him) and eating(me) and want to celebrate the day by eating as a family.
But Little J has it figured out. At the table is his five minutes of fame. He puts on an Oscar worthy performance and switches scenario on us daily so we can’t anticipate and react accordingly. The end result is us trying not to laugh, then us begging and pleading and then saying things and making promises that you would cringe if you heard. Somehow we make it thru every night and there is always a desert at the end. Not as a reward mind you but more as a consolation prize. Thank you for participating, in your face mommy resolutions and well done three year old for making us beg to eat what I bet you liked to begin with.
Yep, we always had grand ideas about our family and at dinner time we are grand indeed…