The Baby Is Not A Toy

Call me Mother of the Year.

Does anyone else have this problem? My four-year-old is convinced that I birthed a new plaything strictly for his entertainment.

After the Halloween sugar high, I was going for a mellow morning before preschool. And then I looked at Peanut's class snack calendar. Sure enough, today is Peanut's day to bring snack. Did I remember this as I got groceries on Friday? No, I did not. So I got Tula strapped into her car seat and the ensuing look of death, poured Peanut into his booster seat, and hurried off to the store to try and beat the school bus. I succeeded. Both kids behaved beautifully and Tula fell asleep. Much rejoicing.

When we got home, I set Tula and car seat on the floor as I figured she'd need to eat and there was no point in pulling her out until she woke up. Normally, this is within five minutes of leaving the car. She slept longer, which wasn't a problem. I came out to check on the kids, and found that Peanut had pulled Tula and car seat to the couch, pulled the sun shade over her, and had her blanket over her face. Tula slept through all of this. I had to explain to Peanut as the bus pulled into our driveway that we do not play with Tula as she sleeps in the car seat. Tula is not a toy. I hope the message got through, but I have my doubts.

I suppose I should be grateful- heaven knows Peanut will come up with more complicated ways than this to use his sister for amusement. I won't be able to take my eyes off him for a second. Never mind- already there. And now I need to remind Boomer that the only reason he's laughing is because it didn't happen to him. That'd be more effective if I'd quit laughing myself.

Call me Mother of the Year.