But if, by chance, there were an award given to the Mommy Who Make Her Children Cry With The Least PossibleÂ Effort, well, I’d be a winner today.
After school, both girls were doing homework when J went and got herself a spoonful of capers. I don’t understand her fascination with capers. Well, yes I do: it’s the salt.Â She loves salt. IÂ generally find her raiding the capers jar and tell her the same thing: “Okay, you can have that spoon, but that’s it. Capers are supposed to be a garnish.”
This time, however, M beat me to the punch with the critique. Hers was a passive-aggressive sniff followed by a more dramatic cough, and, in case her point was not made, an eyeroll-with-nose-holding combination move. So I said, “M, please don’t hold your nose if you don’t like the smell of someone else’s food.” [Shocked disbelief: was that what she was doing? Surely not!]Â “I’m serious, honey. It’s not polite. If you really can’t stand the smell, you can move to the other table.”
Instead she ran up the stairs, sobbing.
Impressive performance by a Mama Bent On Wreaking Sorrow and Pain On Her Children, right?
Within 40 minutes, J came trotting up the stairs after of-so-briefly pounding on the keyboard. “Are you finished practicing piano already?” I asked. “Yeah.” “Did you do your songs four times like Mrs. B asked?” Tears, wailing, kicking legs. I calmly noted that Mrs. B wrote the number 4 above her songs for a reason. “You’re clearly too upset now to play well right now, but this is a reminderÂ for future reference.”
J flung her limbs in multiple directions, wept, and gnashed her teeth.
I’d like to thank all the little people. . . .