The Farrell Children vs. The Dinner Table
We were sitting at dinner last night when Squeaker looked at me and said, “Mama, tell me how was my day.” Which is Squeaker code for, “Mama, please ask me how my day was too!”
So I asked him how his day was, and he replied with the normal, “Fine.” (Which is like asking him, “Squeaker, when’s the last time you went potty?” because the answer is always the same. “Five.”)
Dinner continued, and Squeaker asked me, again, to ask him about his day. So I did.
And then he said, “No, not you. Munchkin.”
So Munchkin said, “Squeaker, how was your day?”
And Squeaker replied, “I don’t want you to talk to me, Munchkin.”
We had a discussion about manners and being courteous, then dinner went on. Until Squeaker reached over and punched Munchkin in the arm.
Before I could finish saying, “Squeaker, we don’t punch people,” Buttercup also reached over and punched Munchkin in the other arm.
“Buttercup!” I said.
And both of my younger children promptly burst into tears.
Fast forward approximately eighty-two seconds, and no one is crying, and Squeaker reaches over toward Munchkin again.
“Squeaker,” I said in that don’t-even-try-it voice that comes pre-installed with the mom genes.
He slid me a sly grin and went for rubbing Munchkin’s back instead.
“Now that’s much nicer,” I said. “But eat your dinner. How does your nose feel? Is it stuffed up?” (The Second Coming of The Cold has struck our humble abode.)
“Yeah,” Squeaker said. “It’s full.”
“Aww, that’s too bad, Squeaker,” Munchkin said. “Can I see?”
Squeaker nodded. Then sat there staring at Munchkin, who tried to contort himself so he could look up Squeaker’s nose.
At the dinner table.
“Squeaker, look up,” Munchkin said.
Squeaker stared at him.
Munchkin repeated himself.
Squeaker just stared at him.
And finally, on the fifth time, Squeaker looked up, and Munchkin leaned over to peer up his brother’s nose.
At the dinner table.
“Nope,” Munchkin declared. “No boogers.”
SuperHubby has offered to do the same for me next time we have a date night at home after the kids are in bed. I think I’m going to decline. Politely, of course.
* * *
Sign up for Jamie’s newsletter: Click here.
Join The Feisty Belles, Jamie’s Facebook Fan Group: Click here.
Buy Jamie’s books:
Southern Fried Blues at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks | Google Play | Smashwords
Mr. Good Enough at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks |Google Play | Kobo
The Husband Games at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Google Play
