Ordinarily I love my kids. I love seeing them learn things. That light in their eyes as they suddenly get it. The fun they have. Their laughter. And then there’s moments like this drive home.
We’d just had an awesome time seeing Kung Fu Panda with a friend. We saw it at the Alamo Drafthouse, so we got lunch as well there. Delicious margherita pizza, which the kids took the tomatoes and “green things” off of.
We laughed, had fun. As we were getting ready to leave I asked if anyone had to go potty.
Superman said he did, but he wanted to wait until he got home. Can you see where the problem will arise?
So, we begin the 20 minute drive home. At the point we’re halfway Superman is begging me to pull over. There isn’t really an easy spot to stop. We were on a toll road. They don’t really like you pulling over on the side of the road.
I’m begging him to just wait a few more minutes. That’s when Princess starts in with her claim she needs to go potty.
Finally we stop at a gas station less than FIVE minutes from our house. I get a Dr. Pepper, well deserved at this point I might add. Superman goes potty. Princess was made to wait in the car, because in my experience she didn’t really need to go, just didn’t want to be left out.
Batman did his big brother job of locking the door and keeping watch for me (I left the car running, so they wouldn’t die from heat exhaustion, this is Texas after all).
Well, Superman and I got back, and Batman can’t figure out how to unlock the door. He’s done this at least a dozen times before (this is the new responsibility they’ve gotten for things that will take me less than 5 minutes). But, suddenly he kept pushing it the wrong way, and I’m trying to yell instructions to him through the window, and he keeps trying.
At this point I’m pounding my head on the door.
Finally he gets the door open. Princess is in a full meltdown and screaming at me. Temper tantrum level Omega, or Red or whatever ultimate level you have. Seriously.
So, she goes in time out for the remainder of the ride, and we get home and she gets sent to lay down on my bed as she screams at the top of her lungs and her brothers get to play.
I deserve a lot of ch0ocolate right now.
And note to self; find the story of “The Boy who Cried Wolf,” to teach a lesson.