Ethan could not have been more excited to see the snow on the ground this morning. Magic. It was as if I had awoken to find our lawn completely blanketed with Nordstrom gift cards. For some reason, he would not stop eating the snow - which is weird, right? I mean, the kid has a pretty dedicated diet of chicken nuggets, cheese sandwiches, and the occasional, stray green bean that I force him to choke down after much negotiation:
"I'll eat one."
"No, you will eat four because you are four."
"Fine. I'll eat two because two twos equal one four."
And so it goes...
The snow tasting resulted in a semi-humiliating situation outside of Target (those who know me well recognize that it takes A LOT for me to reach full-on humiliation. Like naked with a flaming chicken on my head LOT.) So, Ethan wanted to taste the snow off of those big, red balls that, ubiquitously, border every Target parking lot across the country. I am not trying to be crass here but there truly is no other description for these, uh, structures, other than "big, red balls." So what did I yell, loudly, without thinking, when I saw Ethan LICKING one as we exited the store? "Ethan - get your mouth off of the .... !!!!!!" Well, there ya go. The guy walking out behind me was one of the parents from preschool, and he looked more than a little alarmed at my outburst. I just averted my eyes and mumbled, "Tourettes."
It was the same thing at home. Ethan wanted nothing more than to taste the snow from the communal sledding hill - but not the new, sparkly, pristine snow; he kept picking up all the public, tramped on snow to eat, which bothered me. When I told him not to eat the dirty snow he asked why it was dirty and I replied, "There have been tons of people here walking on this. And people walking their dogs ... what if a dog tinkled on that snow?" [A side note: Normally, I avoid explaining my rationale for "not." Explaining just opens up the window for pointing out a hole in your argument. And once they sense weakness, you are toast. Just a little unsolicited parenting tip. You are welcome.]
So - the threat of "tinkle snow" gave him pause for about a second and half. Then he looked me right in the eye and shrugged one shoulder in an avant-garde "Meh - I'll take my chances" sort of way before SHOVING another giant mouthful of (public, tramped on) snow into his mouth. Sigh. Boys!
I just realized that my first post after escaping a life-altering diagnosis is about big, red balls and dog tinkle. What can I say. This is my life. Glamourous, I know.
"I'll eat one."
"No, you will eat four because you are four."
"Fine. I'll eat two because two twos equal one four."
And so it goes...
The snow tasting resulted in a semi-humiliating situation outside of Target (those who know me well recognize that it takes A LOT for me to reach full-on humiliation. Like naked with a flaming chicken on my head LOT.) So, Ethan wanted to taste the snow off of those big, red balls that, ubiquitously, border every Target parking lot across the country. I am not trying to be crass here but there truly is no other description for these, uh, structures, other than "big, red balls." So what did I yell, loudly, without thinking, when I saw Ethan LICKING one as we exited the store? "Ethan - get your mouth off of the .... !!!!!!" Well, there ya go. The guy walking out behind me was one of the parents from preschool, and he looked more than a little alarmed at my outburst. I just averted my eyes and mumbled, "Tourettes."
It was the same thing at home. Ethan wanted nothing more than to taste the snow from the communal sledding hill - but not the new, sparkly, pristine snow; he kept picking up all the public, tramped on snow to eat, which bothered me. When I told him not to eat the dirty snow he asked why it was dirty and I replied, "There have been tons of people here walking on this. And people walking their dogs ... what if a dog tinkled on that snow?" [A side note: Normally, I avoid explaining my rationale for "not." Explaining just opens up the window for pointing out a hole in your argument. And once they sense weakness, you are toast. Just a little unsolicited parenting tip. You are welcome.]
So - the threat of "tinkle snow" gave him pause for about a second and half. Then he looked me right in the eye and shrugged one shoulder in an avant-garde "Meh - I'll take my chances" sort of way before SHOVING another giant mouthful of (public, tramped on) snow into his mouth. Sigh. Boys!
I just realized that my first post after escaping a life-altering diagnosis is about big, red balls and dog tinkle. What can I say. This is my life. Glamourous, I know.
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