Kallan has been bitching at me all morning about how her Spring Break sucks.
I am sick of it, and so I say, “I am tired of this, Kallan. Say something nice or go live under the house like a troll.”
She is taken aback, “What? You leap right from crabby to making me a homeless troll?”
“You wouldn’t be homeless, babe. You would have a house. You would just be under it instead of in it.”
Kallan stands tall and crosses her arms against her chest in challenge, “You are not allowed to threaten me this way.”
“And yet? Here you are . . . threatened. In this way.”
“So I just want to be clear. Spring Break equals doing nothing fun plus chore slavery?”
“Chore slavery? Are you kidding me? I asked you to put your clean clothes away.”
A spark flashes within her eyes, “I’m not doing it.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Well then . . . I guess you told me.”
Kallan smiles.
I continue, “I would be all crushed and defeated, except crushed and defeated is so not my style. So let’s see . . . what can I bring to this battle of wills?”
Kallan is alarmed, “What are you talking about?”
I speak soothingly, “Don’t worry. This will all be over soon. So first? Say something nice or live under the house like a troll. And second? Put your clothes away or I will rub them with peanut butter and feed them to the dogs.”
Kallan’s jaw drops, “That is the most ridiculous threat I have ever heard. No way you would do that.”
“You are so wrong. Just the thought of the dogs running around the back yard fighting over your new peanut-buttered jeans makes me smile.”
“What is wrong with you? You are crazy.”
“Maybe so.”
Kallan stares at me for a minute, “What should this nice thing be? This thing that I have to say?”
“How about something like . . . I love you, dear sweet mom who gave birth to me and who has hardly ever regretted that decision.”
Kallan snorts, “Yeah, like you would want me still inside you.”
Hee hee!
She considers, “I love you, dear sweet mom who has agreed to put my clothes away because I am on Spring Break and should not be asked to do unreasonable slave chores.”
I reach to touch her pant leg, “Shall I slather the peanut butter, you think? Or turkey baster it into the pockets?”
Kallan pulls away, “Alright, alright, alright. Geez. I love you and you are sweet and you gave birth to me and you have the power of peanut-butter destruction. Geez. Here’s me, putting my clothes away. You win. Are you happy now?”
I sink into the couch, “Exceptionally happy. Thank you.”
Silence for a few moments, and then Kallan is back.
“Hey, Mom? Can I have pudding?”
“No.”
“Can I have potato chips?”
“No.”
“Can I have ice cream?”
“No.”
“What can I have?”
I reach my arms out, “A hug.”
She accepts the hug stiffly, “That will not feed me, Mom. What can I have that will feed me?”
“What are you talking about? You don’t need anyone to feed you. You are big enough to feed yourself. Look at you . . . you are such a big girl! Able to use a spoon and everything!”
“Why are you purposely misunderstanding me?”
I feign exaggerated ignorance, “Wait . . . what?”
Kallan speaks slowly, “I . . . want . . . to . . . eat . . . a . . . treat.”
“Oh! Why didn’t you say so?”
“So can I?”
“Can you what?”
“AUGH! Have a treat!”
“Nope.”
Kallan is disgusted, “Spring Breaks are supposed to be a lot more yessy. I am sick of this boring treatless time with family.”
“Oh wait! Those are the magic words that get you another chore! Ding ding ding! Yay! You get to empty the dishwasher! Go Kallan!”
Kallan stands stubbornly, and so I stand to take her by the shoulders and guide her into the kitchen, “Right this way, slave child.”
She crumples dramatically to the floor, “You’ve broken my armpits! I am injured! I am calling for child abuse!”
Snort!
I stare down at her, “Is that anything like calling for a pizza? Ask for my child abuse with extra olives.”
Kallan giggles, “Alright, I will drag my injured self over to empty the dishwasher, but when I manage to contact the pizza authorities? You are in big trouble, woman.”
She starts emptying the dishwasher and I open the freezer, take out the ice cream, and scoop myself a small dish.
Kallan stares at me with her mouth open, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?”
I take a bite, “What? All your talk of treats has made me hungry.”
Kallan shoves in the top rack of the dishwasher and starts emptying the bottom rack, “Hmmmph. This mom-thing seems like a pretty sweet deal to me.”
I take another bite of ice cream and agree, “A very sweet deal. I am very lucky.”
Kallan bats her eyes at me, “Please can I have some ice cream?”
I consider, “Will you call me Your Majesty for the rest of the day?”
“What? No way!”
“Then no deal.”
Kallan finishes the dishwasher and stares at me, “Fine. So can I have some ice cream?”
“You’ll need to phrase that properly.”
“AUGH! Can I have some ice cream, Your Majesty?”
“Certainly!”
People?
The mom thing?
It is occasionally sweet indeed.
Kallan finishes her ice cream and smiles, “How about if I just call you Your Royal Heinieness?”
I am going to kill that girl.
Snort!
I do believe you’ve passed on your sense of humor, I love it.
This had me smiling all the way through, and taking notes for when my children are older.
I don’t supposed you can conjure conversations and tactics from when Maj and Kallan were toddlers, could you?
Ohh! First! Sweet…
Toddler conversations would have to be recreated from memory . . . I have some emails and letters I wrote during that time, but the most part, I did not document our conversations.
Maj didn’t talk much until she was two and half . . . so there is a long stretch of time in which it was only me talking.
I remember those conversations with myself pretty clearly.
That’s not crazy, right?
Ahem.
–>I.Love.It.
The end.
YAY!
The end.
Ha! Oh my gosh…you two are a hoot.
Greta -
Thank you! Yes . . . Kallan is a wily brilliant hoot.
Snort!
you crack me up.
new peanut-buttered jeans.
i am so not that quick and therefore so jealous that my children didn’t even get threatened with peanut-buttered jeans.
snort.
Hey, you!
Maj and Kallan would both enjoy a life in which no one threatened their clothing with peanut-buttering and dog-rending.
Just so you know.
Snort!
The child obviously gets her quick wit from her mother. LOL Love it!
Heidi -
Yes, she is very sassy and Mark agrees that this is all my fault.
I am proud and annoyed all at once.
Ohmygawdohmygawdohmygawd…
I just love you.
As if the turkey baster comment was the BEST – then came the ice cream..
I bow to your great imagination.
You terribly wicked, insanely creative and wonderfully snarky woman.
Never change.
M
Horrifyingly, though?
Kallan is keeping up with me.
She is nine.
I am doomed.
I have no doubt you’ll think of something… I think Maj is training for you for Kallan. Just like I think Al (11) was my training for J (7) as he seems to be beating her in creativity a little.
I always thought I’d have a Calvin (as in Calvin and Hobbes comic) what I didn’t expect was to have a Calvin and Hobbes mix in BOTH children who both seem to feed off the other’s previous exploits.
I obviously should have thought this motherhood thing thru more. :-P
M
Mishelle -
If we really knew what we were in for when we signed up for this motherhood thing, there would be a lot fewer children in the world.
Just saying.
Amen.
Cracking up over here.
Chore slavery indeed!
Such a pain in the butt, Kallan is.
Your Royal Heinieness.
Hmmph.
i want to talk to my kids like you talk to kal and maj and see what their response is. lmao.
Sarah -
Mine are used to the way I talk.
Be careful just springing this sort of stuff on your kids . . . they will go into sarcasm shock.
Hmm can I comment today stupid phone?
This whole kids doing chores thing is definitely a good reason not to sell my toddler on the black market, though I think I could probably get a good price.
Erin -
Toddlers do fetch a good black-market price, but you can fetch an even higher price if they come chore-trained.
Just so you know.
I plan to cultivate your particular brand of rational imbalance.
You are, as I’ve said before, my momming hero.
If I make it through this next week of Spring Breakiness?
Then I can be your momming hero.
Snort!
Hahaaa! She’s funny shit. Wonder where she gets it? Hmmmm. LOL!
Brandi -
Are you suggesting that this is all my fault?
Hmmph.
What Cameron said!
I do not feel heroic.
At all.
Do you feel fucking funny?
Because you’re that, too.
Sometimes.
Although there is less giggling here than you might imagine from people who are not me.
Snort!
I should know by now, but I’m constantly astounded by your ability to recall your conversations so vividly – I find myself often forgetting my conversations whist in mid-phrase, let alone after the fact. LOL.
If you pay attention, though?
This post is actually of three different conversations.
With pauses for putting clothes away and putting dishes away.
And taking notes.
I am a speed demon of note-taking.
You. Are. The. BEST. Love you so much.
Awwwww.
Thank you!
Didn’t spring break just start today? And she’s already bored? It’s gonna be a long week!
I had a really bad evening, but this made it all better. I laughed and laughed. Thank you.
Amy -
Actually, they got off last Thursday afternoon.
Since then?
Kallan has had two sleepovers.
She went to a hockey game with friends.
She has made forts and cookies and crafts.
She played with neighborhood children for endless hours.
She went to the library.
She went to the park.
She went on a picnic.
She went on a hike along the river.
She has taken the dogs for walks.
She has played board games.
She has watched movies.
She went shopping at the mall.
She has texted and phoned and wii-ed.
Yeah . . . she gets bored easily.
Annoying.