So, I'm having a baby in about 36 hours, and that makes me a little sentimental about our family as it is right now: a dad, a mom, and two little girls. I was excited to learn that my girls would be off school Monday and Tuesday of this week, and I've been looking forward to spending time with them and having a special day of just being together and enjoying things as they are right now. I think that's probably normal and not too much to ask for. We're not doing anything too strenuous--running last-minute errands, going to lunch with Mr. Twinkle, maybe hitting a park or getting ice cream or something, just to make the day special before we drop them off at my in-laws' to spend the night, as our hospital arrival Tuesday is scheduled for 5:30 a.m. and that kind of wake-up time would turn my two little angels into complete monsters.
Well, my in-laws will not leave us alone about the girls coming over to play tomorrow. Sophie's in town, and you know that means we have to drop everything so the cousins can play together. I usually don't mind. I love Sophie and, as an only child, I am a big fan of cousin bonding. When she's here I always try to make time with her a priority. As I said before, they're spending the night tomorrow night, but apparently that's not enough. Also, I'm going to be in the hospital all week and Mr. Twinkle has a job he should probably report to at some point. We will need help with school pickups and after-school childcare, so there will be lots of opportunities--other than tomorrow--for fun cousin playtime. Why can't they understand that tomorrow is my time with my girls? Why is this something anyone even has to explain to them?
We all went to the Boo at the Zoo tonight, and those freaks are just absolutely crazy about controlling candy intake. Here's the funny thing--I refuse to be a jerk about Halloween candy at a Halloween party, and my girls didn't eat any more or any less candy than Sophie. They all ate exactly the same amount: one candy item and one bag of pretzels each--which I think is completely reasonable--and my girls did it without my having to police them about it and bitch at them and fight with them the whole time.
We went to Bearno's after, where my SIL and her husband proceeded to order a pizza without any cheese. I'm sorry, if you're going to order a fucking pizza without cheese (aka crust with a bunch of vegetables on top), why are we at a pizza place at all? Why not go somewhere where everyone can just order off the normal menu, maybe someplace known for its salads? Just when I think they can't get any more annoying, they order a pizza without any cheese.
Fun Sink was in rare form at the zoo. She kept trying to lead the children away from anywhere they could run around freely and have fun. There was one place where you could climb on these big Legos. Fun Sink tried to slip by without the children noticing. She even tried to get them past the pumpkin/hay maze, which I think is really fun for kids, and it's not at all hard to keep up with them because the hay bales are set up to be really low. It's one of the best parts of the Boo at the Zoo, because the kids can just run freely and have fun. She cannot handle kids running around having fun. For her the zoo is a series of destinations to be conquered. It actually explains a lot about Mr. Twinkle's disposition, but I was having none of it. We went there in the first place so the girls could have fun and be children, and I would rather not get through the whole zoo than enjoy it in a half-assed manner where we rush through the whole thing and everyone's behavior is regimented. If my girls want to climb on the Legos and run around the hay maze, climb and run they will.
She also really made me mad when she corrected Twinklette. Twinklette really hasn't ever had many words that she mispronounces, like most kids do when they're learning to talk. She has always just been really good at pronunciation--I always wanted to have those cute stories that parents have about adorable mispronunciations, but they've been few and far between. One exception to this rule is that, instead of pretzel, Twinklette says "PRINC-el." I think it's adorable, and I love it, and I want to call them PRINC-els from now on. Fun Sink corrected her tonight. Where does she get off? Twinklette is four years old--she gets to have one little remnant of baby talk cuteness without Fun Sink's interference. She actually knows it's pretzel, because PRINC-el went away for awhile. But PRINC-el just comes naturally to her, and I think it's adorable, and I don't appreciate Fun Sink correcting her on it. As far as I'm concerned, she can say PRINC-el as long as she wants--and I will say it forever.
She also freaked out when I let Twinklette go running off after Sophie and her parents. As if I'd let her run anywhere where I couldn't see her--as if I wouldn't discipline her myself if she went running off into a crowd or something. Fun Sink started angrily yelling at Twinklette to "come back here" and I was all, "She's just running over to Sophie" and Fun Sink said, "They're LEAVING." Well, OK, that may have been the case, but I could see her at the time--she was probably 10 yards away with no one in between us--and she was already with them by the time Fun Sink had a chance to react, so why don't we all just chill out and not yell at Twinklette when she is not doing anything out of the ordinary for a normal, excited four-year-old and I, her mother, have ascertained that she's safe. Clearly Fun Sink has a major problem with freedom within boundaries.
Fun Sink also taught Tiny T to blow on her food, which I think is the epitome of tacky. It may be all the rage if you're living in a hut in Poland, but here in America it's considered bad form. I don't want to teach my children any behavior they can't carry with them to a state dinner if they're ever invited, and now I'll have to break Tiny T of this tacky habit. Apparently Twinklette told Fun Sink it was tacky--haha. I wish I could have been there for that conversation.
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