I May Never Buy Grapes Again

I'm cranky and hungry this morning. Why? 

Grapes. Damned grapes. 

But grapes are really the end of the story. The story begins like this... 

Sam woke up. Everything that happened after was a bit of a challenge. 

He came downstairs while I was still "curling" my hair. (It is in quotation marks because while I was attempting to curl my hair, I had to manage 14,539 fits in the 20 minute time slot I give myself for hair.)

Sam said he needed to pee. 

I said, "Ok, take off your jammies and I'll get your diaper."

He must have heard, "I"m going to kick you through a door and force feed you brussel sprouts until you vomit." 

He had an absolute meltdown. 

Because I wanted him to take off his pants to pee. 

This morning scares me. Clearly.

He would not stop crying. And I wasn't going to give in. He is three. He can take his own pants off, I've seen him do it (and sometimes he does it when it isn't socially acceptable to do so!). 

I finally said, "Sam, you are going back to bed if you don't take your jammies off."

He? Ran. Away from me. And hid in the closet. 

Eff my life. 

So what's a mom to do?! 

That's right. Throw him over your shoulder and take him back upstairs to bed. And that's exactly what I did. 

Meanwhile, Justin is positive I'm beating him by the sounds of the screams of protest. 

We got upstairs and I put him back in the bed. There must have been an angry tiger in the bed I was unaware of. That or I set my son on fire accidentally. 

I've never seen that many tears. He was hysterical. 

Again... because I wouldn't take his pants off for him. 

Moral of that story is: Momma is more crazy than Sam. He took his pants off finally. And he got dressed. And we had a little moment where we cuddled in the floor and I sang Hush Little Baby so he would STOP EFFING SCREAMING! 

And he did. 

Until he realized we had used all of our "breakfast" time by using "making mommy want to jump off of a bridge" time. 

I hadn't had time to make coffee. Or breakfast. Or Justin's lunch at this point. 

I threw Justin's lunch together. Made Sam some chocolate milk, to which he proclaimed, "Mommy, you make the best chocolate milk in the WORLD!"

Things were looking up. 

And then I made a grave mistake. 

I offered...

to get him breakfast.... 

at...

MCDONALD'S!


Was I crazy for thinking McDonald's would be a good idea?! 

Seriously, the conversation went like this...

Sam: I'm hungry. 
Me: Well, I don't have time to make you breakfast this morning. How does sausage from McDonald's sound (b/c you know your momma needs some coffee!!!!... but I didn't say this)
Sam: WHAAAAAAA!!!!!! Bu huh huh huh ut... I... I ... I... wanted.... GWAPES!!!!!!!!
Me: You don't want sausage?! Baby why are you crying? 
Sam: AGH!!!!!! UGH!!!!!!!!!!!! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!! I  WANTED GWAPES!!!!! GWAPES!!!!!!!
Me: So you don't want McDonalds? (insert look of confusion here)
Sam: GWAPES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Me: Grapes it is. Saves me some money. 

He calmed down. For approximately 15 seconds. 

And then he remembered that I offered him McDonalds. And that I'm the anti-christ. 

So we get in the car to go to Susan's (BTW: You're welcome, Susan!) and he is still crying. As he holds his grapes in his hand. 

He cries halfway to Susan's. Never eats a grape. 

The second half of the ride to Susan's was spent with him mean-mugging me in the mirror. 

We got to Susan's, Sam says, "Gwapes make my heart really sad."





You have got to be kidding me. 

That child has a death wish. 

I said, "Sam, understand one thing. You don't eat today until you finish every one of those grapes."

He mean mugged me again. 

We got into Susan's house. Poor, unsuspecting Susan. Who was eager to greet Sam. 

Until she heard me say, "Sam, get your butt over at that table. Do not get up until you have eaten every grape." 

He cried. 

I told Susan, "He gets no snack, no lunch, no nothing until he finishes those grapes."

Susan giggled. She loves a challenge.

Damn shit starting grapes. Makes me want to put some in the dehydrator right now just to watch them die. Slowly.

Happy Thursday, folks!