I was in the grocery store last night with my son. He has a nasty cold at the moment, but he's been sucking it up pretty well. He's felt well enough to clean and rearrange for the arrival of our newest family member. I'm not sure which of us is more excited.
Anyway, we were in the baking isle and I told him he could pick out some jello and I'd make it for him. He wanted a dessert that would be easy on his sore throat. Right. The nachos and salsa were so hard to get down he only ate half the jar and half the bag.
It never fails with kids: You give them a choice of A or B and they always want C. He whined that he wanted pudding. Uh huh - the last 8 pack of pudding I bought, I saw it in the fridge once, then it was gone. One night. I repeated myself; "Which flavor of jello do you want?". He scanned and then focused on the top shelf, where there was no jello, "Cool! Oreo cookie pudding!". Of the wall of pudding, jello and dessert mixes, my son finds Waldo. Kids are Bloodhounds when it comes to anything Oreo - they can sniff them out wherever they may be.
He looked at me with his puppy dog face, even dropped the bottom lip for good measure. I surrendered. Shaking my head in defeat, I turned and pushed my carriage further up the isle. That's when I heard a chuckling from behind. I turned to see a sister on the Battlefield of Dessertness. She looked at me with empathy, "I shake my head the same way".
She understood my pain, she had been there herself. We smiled knowingly at each other and parted ways.
Suddenly, I didn't feel so alone in the War of Motherhood.