Yesterday I was at home with little miss Adrianna who has another ear infection. Honestly, I’m not so sure that it’s truly another ear infection as much as it is the same one that didn’t completely resolve after the last round of antibiotics.
You say tomato, I say tomatoe.
Even though I stayed home yesterday, I sent Brock to the babysitter’s house because I didn’t want . . . I’m trying to think of a delicate way to phrase this . . . well, frankly, I didn’t want to put up with his shenanigans whilst dealing with a sickie. Make that two sickies since Greg stayed home from work as well.
Related side note: To people without children but are thinking of procreating in the future, heed my warning: When your child is sick, do not let them cover you with slimy, snotty, slobbery kisses. You (or in this particular case, your significant other) will get sick as well. Two sick babies is always worse than one, so avoid the sweet, slobbery goodness unless you also would like to contract a case of the common cold (or Ebola as Greg described it yesterday).
Let me step off my soap-box & get back to the point of this particular post.
After I picked Brock up from daycare, I had to put gas in the minivan (how cliché am I?!). I told him that since he was really good, he could go inside with me and get a Bug Juice. As soon as we walked into the gas station, there were displays of candy bars, sodas, etc. Try as I might, I cannot keep him from grabbing one of every type of candy there is.
We finally settle on Reese’s pieces and I told him that he can’t have any until after dinner.
We continue back toward the coolers to get his bug juice.
He grabs another candy bar.
I grab his hand and tell him that he won’t like that kind because it has nuts in it.
He agrees that he doesn’t like nuts & wouldn’t like that particular candy bar.
He then, very loudly shouts, “But you do mom! You wike nuts! Right? Right, mom? You wike nuts!”
In an effort to shut him up and salvage a shred of my dignity, I grab the Snickers and we continue toward the coolers.
He chooses his Bug Juice. The white one, of all things.
We get to the register.
We place our items on the counter.
He looks the cashier straight in the eye and yells, “My mom weally wikes nuts!”
I didn’t even bother trying to explain that my sweet, darling son meant the nuts in the candy bar.
When we finally got to the car, I died.
I’m linking in with Chantel over at My Thoughts & Treasures because a child’s mind is a treasure!