Mighty B has been in quite a mood this evening. He spent the last hour arguing with me out of sheer orneriness. Part fatigue, part misery (The Oracle is working tonight and he misses Daddy), I get the brunt of his emotions.
I had to go to the stupidmarket for dog food, and if it was something to annoy me, he did it, rattling glass jars on their shelves, playing with fruit displays, opening and smelling the contents of the pickle barrel by the deli, not staying with me until I forcibly grabbed his arm for good, and doing the old hang-and-drag to make me let go.
Fortunately for me, he's a tall-ish kid, which means I merely dragged his bejeaned knees up and down the aisles until I finished what I had to do.
We check out and return to the car. He climbs inside, and I close his door and walk around to the driver's door. Oh, looky-looky!! Mighty B has reopened his door and is giving me a defiant stare.
"Oh, it's that game?" I return to his door, throw the child lock on, and shut it gleefully. Mighty B. is vexed that he can't reopen it. "Serves you right."
After a heavy-handed threat, he finally buckles up for the ride home, and when we arrive, I open his door, release the child lock, and ask him to step out of the car. He refuses because he can.
"Okay, suit yourself, I'm going inside" and I do, but I send the Shedder outside with him to keep a watchful eye. He wanders in a few minutes later.
Precious Daughter gets in the shower, Mighty B. plays possum and I have to strip him down. He has finally resigned himself to his shower fate, and he's a good boy about it.
We ate an early dinner, so snacks are in order. I unwisely give them hot chocolate, cheated on the powder and camouflaged with milk.
MB - Mommy, I don't like the marshmallows.
Me - I can scoop them out.
PD - I'll eat them!
MB - No! (pause) Mommy, I'm not drinking it. The mug is too full.
Me - Suit yourself. It's there if you want it.
PD - I'll drink it!
MB - No! (pause) Mommy, can I have some crackers?
Me - How do you ask me?
MB - Pleeeeease?
PD - Can I please have some too? (it takes me a moment to recover from the shock of PD uttering the word, "please.")
Me - sure. I'll just put them here and you guys can help yourselves.
MB - I don't want to share!
Me - (groaning) Fine, B. Seven for you, seven for PD.
MB - But I wanted three!
Me - Eat what you want, B. She can finish what you don't, and I have more if you want them.
Not ten minutes later, the mugs are drained, the crackers are devoured, and our petty power struggle is forgotten.
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