They’re on to me…

Sometimes I think my kids read my blog.  Those two, always in cahoots.  I bet they sneak downstairs in the middle of the night and log on to the laptop so they can figure out how best to torture me.   Maybe we shouldn’t have taught Gryffin how to read.  I bet he’s spearheading this campaign to make me cuckoo.

Nah, they don’t even know what a blog is… do they?  I’m telling ya, I’m starting to wonder. The day after I wrote the Putting on Socks post, Gryffin put his own socks on.  No joke.  Like he knew that I’d just had enough.  Like he read my post and thought, oh man, Mama is serious about this.  In reality I think Jason was scared of me after that post and forced him to up his game.  I don’t know.  All I know is that when Gryffin sauntered into my room that morning and proudly showed me his socks, all I could do was narrow my eyes and say, “Who have you been talking to?”

Isaiah, on the other hand, seems hellbent now on thwarting me in the kitchen.  This kid is relentless.  Dogged. Determined.  I can’t shake him.  The second he sees me getting out the bread to make lunch, he’s pulling up the stool and grabbing a knife to stick in the jelly jar.  Dinner prep is an absolute nightmare.  Yesterday the scallions ended up on the floor, in my hair, down my shirt and I don’t know where all but I don’t think any ended up in our dinner.   I want to be patient.  I really do.  And I want to be willing to let my little “helper” just have at it.  He obviously wants to be part of the process and I can respect that.  But I also want to eat.  You know, before 11pm.   It’s like he read the cooking post and thought, oh mama… mama, mama, mama… I haven’t even BEGUN to show you what I’m capable of in the kitchen.  Just. you. wait. 

 You win some and you lose some, I guess.  All I know is that I’m going to start being a little more careful what I write.  You know, just in case.