Day 8 Bedtime is still an hour away and my cup-of-care dried up, oh, I don't know, somewhere around today's "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy" number 2784. I've got nothing left, as evidenced by these actual conversations in my house tonight:
Greta, age 2: "Mommy, my water is all gone."
Me: "I don't care."
Harper, age 5 (holding up her artwork): "Mommy, remember when I made this for you."
Me: "Yes."
Harper: "Yeah, I remember too."
Me: "Is there a point to this remembering and why are you talking to me?"
Henry, age 6: "Mommy, can we load up a game on the iPad?"
Me: "If we do, will you not talk to me for the rest of the night?"
Henry: "Yes."
Me: "Bring me the iPad."
Greta: "Mommy - "
Me: "If anyone says Mommy again, they are going to time-out."
Greta: "But Mommy - "
Me: "That's it, time-out."
Greta: "But Mommy - "
Me: "Nevermind, Mommy is going to time-out."
Greta: "But Mommy - "
Me (fetal position, fingers in ears, rocking back and forth): "Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-I-can't-hear-you."
Greta (handing me a pacifier): "Here, Mommy."
Finally, somebody gets me.