There is an upside to your child being deliriously overtired. You know if you can just get through lunch without streaking down the street like a mad woman/man, the afternoon nap will be epic.
Yesterday was one of those days.
We started the morning a little early after having a mediocre night’s sleep at best. I’m counting those as exhibits A and B as contributors to the general crankiness that eventually erupted at the lunch table.
I took Chloe to a play group which almost always wipes her out of all energy reserves as well as immunities to infectious diseases. There were a lot of croupy sounding coughs from her playmates. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a Doctor but is it bad when someone’s eyes are bulging from the sockets and are the colour of cooked beets? I think Chloe had a licking contest with that kid.
This amount of activity might wipe out the average kid but when you jam all of your weekly activities into one day, it’s important to soldier through and head to the next event.
Story Time at the library.
There are a few kinks we are trying to work out prior to and during this program.
- The library computers are highly sought after by kids ages 2.99 years old and three (Chloe’s age). She does not want to leave the computer when the class starts and typically has to be lured in by the promise of a musical instrument to pound on the floor and/or the potential of being read “Five Little Monkeys Jumping On The Bed.”
- The bathroom. Chloe always has to go to the bathroom during Story Time whenever she feels there has been a substantial lull in the action.
- She’s still a little young to participate in floor circle discussions about why Sally’s side of the car didn’t have any rain on it but her Dad’s had a ton while en route to the zoo so she zones out or does some of the following; lays on her stomach with her arms earmuffed over her ears and loudly repeats, “I’m trying to sleep! Why is she talking?” or scrunches up her face towards the very patient librarian (must be a prerequisite before being hired) while rudely saying, “I don’t really care about you.”)
When it came time for the craft, she had used up every ounce of strength she had to colour the monkey’s face with as many colours and patterns as she would like before inserting a party horn through the paper hole in the monkey’s mouth and aiming for my temple.
When we made it home she asked for carrots and hummus.
The hummus was touching the carrots so they were pushed to the side and a tired little girl clunked her head onto her folded elbows and waited for a solution to this monumental ordeal.
She asked what was in the bowl in front of her and when we both agreed they were sliced pears she said, “Well I don’t want pears,” so I ate them.
On my last bite she said, “Mommy, what……….happened………… to my……pears?!!!!!” Uncontrollable sobs.
When she took a sip from her water bottle she tossed it and startled herself at the noise it made but mostly at my reaction.
“Well, I wanted orange juice?”
The fact that I was in the presence of a librarian this morning may have saved her.
“I want to go to my bed.”
Night-night Chloe. Don’t let the monkey horn bite.
