|S's first look at the snow Saturday morning|
Don't get me wrong. We had some fun the last few days. We played with playdoh, we dressed up in funny costumes, we had a dance party, we built a train track... the only problem is that we did each of those things for a total of five minutes. You see, these days, S has the attention span of a hyperactive poodle, and so each of these activities require that much more time be devoted to preparation and clean-up than to the thing itself.
|Yes, we even did five minutes of this.|
Now S is back to acting like a bored teenager, flouncing on the couch and moaning, "I don't know what to plaaay with." Really? We have dozens of toys piled up on our living room floor, and nothing looks good to you? Ok, well, let me scramble to get this arts-and-crafts disaster cleaned up and then we can try to entertain you again.
But in the meantime, while our defenses are down, S starts doing something naughty instead, like removing dirt from my potted plants, climbing onto the dining table, or sticking all of her baby sister's pacifiers in her mouth. And so we end up scolding her, and she ends up crying hysterically, all before we can clean up the five-minute activity. The one we began with such good intentions.
Sigh. I guess that's what life with a three-year-old is like sometimes. Mama J can attest to that, and I'm sure some of you can, too. And so for all of you sharing your homes with irrational, overactive little people--perhaps ones, like mine, who insisted that her tummy hurt this morning and the only thing that would make it feel better were chocolate chips--I'm wishing you one thing today.
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