It’s the chaos of dinner preparation. I’m mopping up ham juice with environmentally unfriendly paper towels, using up the last half of the roll.
William spies the empty cardboard cylinder and—like a cat smelling catnip–claims the roll.
He uses it as a megaphone and begins making play-by-play announcements of the dinner preparation before him.
“Daddy is cutting the ham. I repeat. Daddy is cutting the ham.”
William removes the roll from his mouth. I spy a collection of saliva that’s turning the tube into cardboard mush.
He puts it back to his mouth. “Mommy is pouring the milk. I repeat. Mommy is pouring the milk.”
The Prop Game advances as William moves the mushy paper towel roll to his eye. “Ahoy, Matey,” he announces, the greeting of kid pirates the world over.
Then he looks at me, one large brown eye appearing at the end of a tube. “I spy with my little eye…something that begins with the letter M.”
“Is it me?” I ask.
“No.”
“Is it Mommy?” my husband asks.
“Yes!” says William.
He shifts and looks at his dad through the makeshift telescope. “I spy with my little eye something that starts with the letter D.”
“Is it dork?” I ask, as a grin spreads across my face.
“No.”
“Is it dude?” my husband asks, staring down my grin.
“No.”
“Is it dud?” I ask.
“No.”
My husband matches my play. “Is it dearest?”
“Nope.”
“Is it dummy?” I ask, looking straight at my husband.
“Nah-ahh.”
“Is it desirable spouse?” my husband asks.
I roll my eyes. William shakes his head.
Then, like exhausted mothers everywhere, I ruin the game in two simple sentences.
“Okay, Will, we know it’s Daddy. Now go wash up for dinner.”
*
When have you rained on someone’s parade?
Whenever someone tells me a story that they’ve alrady told me. I try to sit through it but I will spit out the outcome and say, “you’ve already told me this one.”
So hard to bite your tongue on those stories. I’ve been there.
I think you let him get pretty far in the game personally. I rained on #4’s parade yesterday when I explained our summer reading challenge. Somehow twenty minutes of reading a day translates into destroying her soul all summer.
If I had a #4, I’d be a nonstop thunderstorm.
Glad to see you kept the D guesses relatively PG 🙂
My 3yo starts every game with the same line: “I spy with my little eye something that is stinky!” Then she rolls on the ground laughing at her zinger. (ps the answer is always her brother)
She has her mother’s quick sense of humour!
My wife still feels she should give sympathy laughs when our 7-year-old makes the same joke for the tenth time. I feel bad about telling him the joke expired after the first or second telling, but I want him to hear it from me instead of the kids at school.
You are doing your child a great service. Maybe between the two of us, we should invest in a full-time therapist for our kids in a decade.
I’m pretty sure Matthew would tell you that I rain on his parade every day, but it’s not true. I only snap and get into “wrap it up” mode before bed, when I’m eyeing the clock and counting down the minutes.
I love that you sound like such a MOM, with your “Go wash up for dinner!”. I swear to God, nothing makes me feel more like a mom than uttering those words and yes, I’m serious. That and, ”Am. I. .CLEAR?” while wagging a finger.
I think at bedtime, I too become the worst mother ever. I blame Canada. Well, at least the light. I mean, what’s with it still being light out at 10?
CLASSIC, PERFECT PROSE:
“Then, like exhausted mothers everywhere, I ruin the game in two simple sentences.”
you rock.
as a writer and as a mom, of course.
You are too kind. But thanks. I’ll put that in my pocket for a rainy day!
Leanne! You sure know how to tell a good story. Loved this! =)
Thanks, Ellie! Means a lot coming from you.
Consider his engagement a blessing! Mine asks for her book when we walk down the hotel hallway or any awkward time when we might want to talk.
Good readings, as always.
A book? You mean those things with pages and words? Talk or no talk, you’re doing something right.
Is it dork?
Bahahahaha!
Once again, I’m reminded why I want to be a part of your family.
I love D words. And ham juice.
And paper towel rolls with multiple uses.
You guys crack. me. up.
(p.s. I end up raining on parades pretty much hourly around here…usually because it’s time to eat…;-)
Mealtimes and bedtimes: let it rain…
When have I rained on someone’s parade. What a setup. I’m tempted to go in so many directions here, but I just keep thinking about this one time when my friend was so excited because he just got promoted at work. I told him I didn’t care and then stabbed him with my pen. Does that count?
Was that you imitating some sort of Matrix move? 😉
Ha! Rained on someone’s parade? Isn’t that the word “mother?”
😉
Indeed.
I’m certain I do this regularly.
Lil Diva lets loose The Great Screech of Annoyance should I not comply with any demands instantly.
My son completely melts down if I dare have to interrupt any time when he’s in his “zone” – only done during dire “We have to be somewhere” circumstances.
And he still resists any biology or science corrections on what he believes to be true.
You reminded me how much fun we have with those paper tubes..
The rush-around anxiety. I remember that. From this morning.
I love how he knows the facts. Funny, at least from afar!
Occasionally when asked if why the chicken crossed the road I answer: “He didn’t and the semi got him now go do what I asked.” But in Montana that could be true. I am preparing my kids for dealing with harsh reality.
You make me laugh. Hard. Hilarious!
I have an incurable urge to tell you a totally lame knock-knock joke at this juncture, but I will refrain.
Lame knock-knock jokes are my life. Try me.
My daughter and granddaughter are both adults so now I have to target my husband (he’s much bigger than I am and it gets tricky). Sometimes he is hilarious but I’m afraid he rides the “miss” wagon quite often. I shake my head and look at the ground. I’ve been at this parade raining thing for so long I don’t have to utter a word. I’m considering graduating to psychic rain next year. I’m certain the technique could help many moms seem a lot nicer in grocery stores and other public places. ;} Great writing, Leanne!
Thanks, Teresa. I think I have to work on my psychic skills. They’re undeveloped. Most of my skills are undeveloped…
Thanks for commenting!
I am on my way to ruin a parade right now by telling my son that no, he cannot have that friend come over. Why? Because it is raining outside. Which means they will have to be inside. And I have tons of stuff to do. And if they are inside they will make it impossible to do any of these things.
I think I am one giant walking thundercloud.
Hilarious Leanne! 😉
Renee, we can walk side by side and become a storm.
You totally sound like me. And right now, as soon as I finish commenting here I am going to turn the hose off because I can hear it being turned on by my son. This will most definitely rain on his parade.
Water running. You don’t know how often that happens to me.
Sigh.
Here’s to more rain!
My kids love paper tubes. Actually, even I have been known to use one to project orders to my family. “Clean your room. I repeat. Clean your room.”
Use the enemy’s tactics (and weapons)! I love that idea.
Ha! and Awwwww …:)
I always know I’ll get a good laugh from reading your posts, and once again you did not disappoint. 🙂 Loved the image of the cardboard mush paper towel roll.
I try not to rain on parades, but I’m sure I do sometimes.
“When have you rained on someone’s parade?” Every day of being a mom if you listen to my children…sigh…
Wendy