This morning Brother and Sister asked for Kix for breakfast, which was fine by me. I did not get to sleep until 2 a.m. That's not the norm for me, but I got caught up in blog world and lost track of time. Even FlyLady's "GO TO BED!" reminder couldn't tear me away.
Bad mommy. Bad mommy.
So, I get out Sister's usual Dora the Explorer bowl and Brother's usual Toucan Sam bowl. Then Sister decides to pull a switcharoo and says, "I want that bowl!" pointing to Brother's bowl. I panic. An argument is on the horizon and I haven't had my coffee yet. Oh, please God, no. "I thought you wanted Dora," I say, wondering how I'm going to diffuse the situation. And then she whines.
"NO! I want that one!"
Brother, quick on his feet, says, "Mom, is the other one clean?" He is referring to the Tony the Tiger bowl, which is the same size, color, etc. as the Toucan Sam bowl, but of course features Tony. I remember that one is sitting in the fridge with boiled eggs in it. So much for that idea. Sister starts to cry. Brother, at seven, is already very sensitive to his sisters' crying. All Sister and Baby have to do is sniffle and Brother gives them whatever they want. Most times I intervene, trying to teach him to withstand female manipulation. The boy needs to know these things. It is a lesson to teach Sister as well: Crying doesn't always get you what you want. Might get you out of a speeding ticket, but Mom knows that trick. Heck, I'm the master. I practically invented it.
Brother caves. "Okay, you can have this bowl," he says, scooting it her way and taking the dreaded Dora bowl. Sister is happy and ready to eat now. Situation avoided...sort of. I thank Brother, telling him how sweet his gesture was.
"But I really wanted that bowl, Mom."
"That's why it was so sweet. Because you gave her what you really wanted," I say. "It's called 'sacrifice'."
Sigh. My baby is growing up.