Dripping With Sarcasm

I always get great ideas for a post when I'm driving in my car. Or taking a shower. Or falling asleep. Or cooking dinner. Really inopportune times, and then when I'm sitting in front of the computer, I remember nothing.

It's probably lucky for you. I'm not sure I'm the best judge of what a "great idea" is.

One thing I realized while driving today, is that I may be using sarcasm more than I realize. And I need to stop. Personally, I do think sarcasm is a weak version of humor. That's not to say I don't appreciate some well-placed sarcasm. But I can also get really annoyed with persistent and unfunny sarcasm.

Avee's little Pho Restaurant is closed for renovations. This is very sad for all of us, but particularly hard on Avee. So hard, that she's starting to think everything is closing. So when I went to the bank drive-thru to get cash from the ATM, she informed me that it was closed. And even though I told her it wasn't closed, she maintained that it was.

That's where Bo comes in. He's this little midget "enforcer" with no authority. ("That's right Avee, get your pajamas put away! We're tired of asking!")

So Bo told her that it was not closed.

And Avee said it was closed.

He said it was not.

She said it was.

It was not.

It was.

Was not.

WAAAAAAS!!!!

And so forth.

Moments before my head would have exploded, I intervened and said, "Bo, how much do you really care about this issue? I mean, is it really worth it? Do you really care about the right answer here?"

To which he responded, "Oh I care mom. I care deeply."

That's where I learned the part about there being too much sarcasm in our family dialogue.

In other news,
Bo is doing a lot better than the last time I wrote about him and publicly abused him on my blog and got put in my place by a concerned blitizen. And by concerned, I mean CUCKOO!

There are still some things that need to be worked through, but sleep, attention, J being home more, and my superior parenting skills (of which I have referred to in the past) have all helped tremendously.

On the other hand, Danyo woke up this morning with PMS. I'm pretty sure that's a completely accurate diagnosis too. I swear I had a roommate like him....

First of all, he woke me up by crying loudly in his crib. He never cries in his crib. He sings, he dances, he yells, and he whines---but he never cries. In his crib.

So I immediately jump out of bed to retrieve him, because that's what an awesome mom does when it's 9:08 am and her 5 year old is downstairs eating FunDip for breakfast and her 3 year old is sprawled next to her on her.

When I walked into his room he started baby swearing and looking for something to throw at me. He wasn't willing to part with his blanket so he settled on flinging his arm at me. It was disappointing to him that it had to stay attached and couldn't fly across the room and slap me. Because ooooooooh, he wanted that.

I started sweet talking him and he threw himself down on his bed and hid his face, screaming even more loudly.

I thought maybe he was frustrated that his sippy cup was trapped between bars. So I reached down for it. He clawed at me. I handed it to him and he gave one loud menacing screech and shoved the cup back where it was.

I sweet talked him some more.

I have always been this effective with the boys.

I finally reached down to pick his stinky butt up out of the crib and the boy grabbed the bars of his crib to keep from being removed.

Now you tell me what other explanation there is for this, if not PMS?

Plus, after I took him downstairs, all while he screamed, I figured he'd be happy once I put him down.

You know the rest.

He wouldn't let me put him down.

I had to hold him.

While he screamed.

He finally stopped when I fed him popcorn leftover from last night.

I think I'm going to write a book, either about superior parenting skills, early morning nutrition for kids, or how to deal with PMS in your 20 month old....boy.