The Ice Cream Moment

Alexis has approximately -235235089 ounces of patience for my need to stop "just once" on the way home from things. I say just once, it ends up being ten times, none of the stops are fun, and basically she thinks adulting is stupid.

She's right, of course.

But while she has no patience for me stopping for milk on the way home from a movie, she also thinks it's perfectly acceptable to ask me to run to the store for milk at 6:30 am on a Saturday. WHICH IT IS NOT. AT ALL. NOPE. I don't do anything at early o'clock on a Saturday.

So last week when one of those milk stops became critical, Alexis whined. And whined. And whined. I didn't much care, so I stopped anyway and drug her out of the car. There was much complaining.

And then it occurred to her that she could use the moment to her advantage. Ice cream!

She dashed through the store to pick out some ice cream, which is all it took for it to be okay that I had to dart through the store for a coupe of essentials. Twenty minutes later, we were back in the car and headed home. Another twenty minutes after that, we pulled into our driveway. I reminded Alexis to grab the ice cream and that we could grab all of the other things we had picked up the next morning.

Guess what happened!

Of course Alexis grabbed everything except the ice cream. It sat in the car all night and was discovered the next day, well after it had melted into a pile of gross.

Alexis was sad. At first she tried to turn her sad to mad by blaming me, but then I reminded her that my exact words were, "Grab the ice cream, please." It's hard to blame someone for something when they definitely told you to do it.

And then I laughed. Because COME ON. All the kid cared about in life was that ice cream, but she managed to forget it. It was a funny mistake, and I told Alexis as much.

Since then, we've adopted the phrase "ice cream moment" as our way of describing moments when either one of us do something completely dumb. It's really the most perfect way of admitting you did something that makes no sense, except that strangers have no idea what we're talking about. So, uh, to the Target cashier who thought we were insane earlier tonight? We are, but I swear it all made sense.

You just have to know about the ice cream moment.



Mere Mortal

One of my favorite parts of parenting tiny humans is that they genuinely think you're the most amazing being there is. There's nothing you can't fix, you know everything, and generally you're all that and a bag of peanuts.

And then they grow up and figure out that you're just as clueless as all of the other people on earth and WELP. Alexis was probably 8 years old the first time she muttered, "Why am I asking you?" when she realized I was totally deflecting instead of recommending how she could solve a problem.

I had a good run with that kid. It's true.

And now there's Mila. Mila, she of many opinions, has decided to rage at the sun. THE SUN. Of all the things in this universe to get mad at, she has chosen the sun. She is mad at it for existing, then she's mad at it for being in the wrong place, and then she's madder and madder at it because "THE SUN IS IN MY EYES." I'm waiting for her to scream "KILL IT WITH FIRE!" because I think she might.

And then I'd have to explain that you can't kill fire with fire and that doesn't sound like any fun.

Instead of explaining combustion to a 2-year old, I hand her a pair of sunglasses and tell her to deal. The sun is allowed to be where the sun wants to be. I tried that explanation yesterday and was told, "TURN IT OFF!" so obviously Mila totally understands my point.

Today, though, today was the day when I disappointed my 2-year old. Today Mila raged at the sun for existing, and then she raged at it because it was shining in her eyes. I handed her sunglasses and all of that, but she threw the sunglasses at me.

Mila is a thrower. It's a fact.

Then Mila straight-up demanded that I move the sun. She yelled, "MOVE THE SUN, MOMMA!" at least fifteen times. I started to just plain ignore the rant because I am a terrible human being and own that fact, but Mila wanted to rub it in some more. "MOVE IT. MOVE IT. MOVE IT."

And then she fell silent. She thought for a moment then quietly, in an almost whisper, added, "Please. Momma please move it."

And I couldn't.

The child used her manners exactly as I have told her to do a million times and I couldn't move the sun so that it wouldn't shine in her eyes.

Two years. It took me two years for Mila to figure out I'm not all powerful.



Leading the Next Fashion Craze

There has been some concern for a few weeks that Mila may not play along with this year's Halloween plan. I thought we would manage to squeeze in one more year of Alexis getting to dictate everyone's costumes, but early indications are that Mila is riding the Nope Train all the way to Nopeville. Which, if she sticks to her plan filled with nopes, there will be much disappointment. Alexis ROCKED the duo thing again this year.

I have a week to figure out what sort of bribery might convince Mila to play along. Which, I think maaaaaaaybe I found an angle.


We go to Zoo Boo every year because Zoo Boo is a good time. There's not a lot of candy to be had and it's always crazy crowded, but additional opportunities to wear costumes are good. Also good are the little haunted house and a chance to just hang out for a few hours. I'm a big fan of spending time together while pretending the house isn't trashed, you know?

This year's Zoo Boo lived up to expectations. I didn't even bother to try to get either of the girls to wear their "real" costumes because I may only get one shot at convincing Mila to play things my way. Alexis' costume is really only amazing with Mila's, so that was that. Alexis made herself a bunny tail and I convinced Mila to wear a tutu and some wings.


Mila added one little item to her costume. A feed bag.

Mila very literally hung her candy bag around her neck and threatened to cut anyone who tried to move it. She kept her candy nice and close so that she could eat it as quickly as she collected. Which, she succeeded. The girl left with LESS candy than she arrived with, thanks to the fact that she not only ate everything she got, she also ate the "starter" bag of Skittles I gave her to remind her how to trick-or-treat.

So, when Monday rolls around and it's time for Mila to put on her for-real costume, I'm going to add a feed bag to it. Feed bags filled with candy are most definitely this season's "in" accessory.