I’m not sure if you heard me….

Leave it to ck…she gets to all the good posts first.  But our version, over here at the Insanity Warehouse where even the insanity is on sale and going fast, went a little something like this:

setting: public bathroom at a Berekely playground
time: an iota before naptime

Me: Peanut, sweetie, please don’t touch the walls while we’re in the bathroom
P: Why?
M: Because bathroom walls are dirty.
P: Why?
M: Well, there’s no ceiling and nobody who cleans these walls so the rain and the mud and the germs all just stay here.
P: Why?
M: Same reason I just told you. My answer hasn’t changed.
P: [grabs chain that blocks off bathroom, ineffectively, during after-hours]
M: honey, please don’t touch that.
P: Why?
M: Because it’s dirty. It’s part of the bathroom, it doesn’t get washed, and it’s dirty.
[everyone voids, everyone sanitizes. And Peanut grabs the chain again.]
M: Hey! Peanut. Please don’t touch that.
P: Why?
M: Do you remember me telling you before?
P: Yes.
M: Then why shouldn’t you touch that?
P: Be. Cuz. It. Dirty.
M: That’s. Right. [he has thing thing about breaking out syllables when I bore him. I have this thing about repeating his cadence. Because it diffuses my anger and because it’s fun.]
I went back into the bathroom for a moment to toss a tissue from my pocket and I hear the chain.
M: PEANUT! I just told you not to touch that. [dash back out to stop him and am greeted by:]
P: [blank stare]
M: Do you remember me telling you not to touch that?
P: Yes.
M: Do you know why we don’t touch that?
P: Yes.
M: Why did you touch that?
P: Because I want to touch it and I no want listen to you.
M: Would you like it if I didn’t listen to you?
P: No.
M: How do you think it makes me feel when you don’t listen.
P: Sad. An-ry.
M: Yes. So please listen when I say no touch.
P: No.
M: I’m sorry? What?
P: I. Say. No. I. No. Want. Listen.

Okeedokee.

I. No. Want. This. Job.

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9 thoughts on “I’m not sure if you heard me….

  1. You got it, sister. Our local bar has daycare and…holy crap I just found the perfect business idea! Get the sitters from the YMCA to staff an awesome daycare center with a full bar in the back and valets who can drive you home, in your own car-seat laden car, when you’re done shaking off the bull.shit.

  2. I want in on that daycare.

    I won’t care about who’s yakking and who’s complaining and who smells if I’m armed with a drink.

    …who am I kidding? I have that daycare in my house. Minus the childcare part. Should I have your drinks ready?

  3. I’ll bring the apps!

    NTW~ If I were you, I would be dragging that kid, kicking and screaming back to the car; so thank goodness I’m not you, eh? Cheers to you.

  4. ah, faemom, believe me, he’d do much better with you. Your boys do, so it must be working.

    CK, start pouring. Faemom has crafty apps, J and I will bring…um…witty conversation? I don’t have much to offer but a whole ball of negativity. And what full-bar/daycare center party doesn’t need that?

  5. That’s the beauty of blogging, we only see what others want to see. I know only hold to parenting goals: get them out of diapers and keep them out of juvy. Other than that *shrug* You’re doing fine. Just take a deep breath.

  6. lol…
    ck, you know if it weren’t for the international dateline, the whole airfare thing, and the fact that we know you like to drink alone, we’d be there in a freaking flash.

  7. Luckily we haven’t entered the realm of “Why”. We do have the “I know why I’m not supposed to, but I want to so I’m going to anyway” part. lol!

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