Tuesday, September 16, 2008

I am incredibly gifted/I have no idea what I am doing

** I just came across this unfinished draft - I am sure I was going to follow up with some screaming fit the kids had after such a glorious day, but I thought it was worth posting even if incomplete. **

I sit here basking  in what might be my most glorious day as a parent of a six and eight year old.  A had to work on Sunday so it was a "daddy day".  It was a glum, cloudy fall-ish day.  The kind of day where you want to curl up on the couch and watch football all day.  Or at least that is what I wanted to do.  A was having a bunch of friends over on Monday for coffee, so I had to make sure the house was picked up.  I definitely was not picked up when she left. 

After a leisurely morning of cartoons and computer games for the kids (usual for a "daddy day") it was time to get the day rolling.  I don't enjoy cooking.  I grew up mostly on dry cereal for breakfast, served to myself with way too much sugar.  Therefore, my preference is to go out for breakfast or brunch with the kids.  Off we go to Bruegger's for bagels, smoothies and coffee.  F asked if he could bring a book with. "Sure" - "Can I bring it in?" - "Sure" - "Can I read it in the car?" - "Sure".  What? No Legos?! No Nintendo?! No old, dirty rope?! E chimes in.  "Can I help F with the hard words?" - "Sure".  Oh my god, who kidnapped my children and replaced them with these bizarre creatures? 

In the car I gave my usual stern lecture regarding how to behave in a restaurant and how if they didn't behave they would lose privledges and I would be angry (or angrier).  "OK - Can we keep reading?"  Once in the restaurant I suggested they choose their seat and wait quietly while I stand in line and order.  They run to our usual spot and slide in to the booth next to each other.  As I get in line, I look over expecting to see punching, scratching, hair pulling or crawling on, over, around or under the table.  But what to my wondering eyes do I see?  The two of them reading - E patiently, calmly, quietly helping F with the "hard" words.  I am amongst the greatest parents, EVER!

It might be a bad sign when the kids' "usual" is so unique (and mildly disgusting) that you are recognized for it.  (The usual is a cinnimon sugar bagel with strawberry cream cheese and - wait for it - sliced turkey.)  

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