Any time they want to get something, do something, whatever...it gets worded like this.
I really wish we could [insert desired thing here].Case in point...
So, it's not been uncommon to hear Large Fry say, "Boy, I really wish we could go watch Full House, Mommy!" half a dozen times in less than that many minutes.
Or, "I wish we could go to the Memorial Pool!" Imagine that a dozen times between when Hubby left for work (taking our lone vehicle) and lunch. When you're sick. And feel like death warmed over a couple times, you know the kids know you're sick, and all you want to do is go back to bed and sink into blessed unconsciousness but you can't because you have to be vertical and take care of your kids...the first iteration is irritation enough. Rounds two through seventeen are just gravy. Which you then want to fling at your kids. Whom you love. Really.
But I digress.
I did tell you all this for a reason, though.
Due to our travel schedule this summer and Jester and Mitzy's own summer schedule, preparing for their wedding and getting Mitzy moved in down here, we haven't seen much of them. The kids have missed them. Last week, when I was finally feeling better, Mitzy asked if they could come over to deliver some little gifts to the Fries—wedding souvenirs and a framed photo of them on their wedding day (holding signs declaring that they love each of the Fries, by name; SO cute). I knew about this plan, so I said it was fine. As I stood in the kitchen, preparing dinner, Small Fry pouted and said, "I wish dat Jestewr an' Mitzy could come ovewr fowr dinnewr." Sigh. I sent Mitzy a text, confirmed they hadn't eaten, and invited them for our exciting taco salad dinner as well as presenting presents.
Since that night, having the family together for dinner isn't enough. No, we must have guests.
And, of course, since we saw Jester and Mitzy at church today (and because they're insanely loved by my kids), they're the ones that the kids wanted to have over. They, however, had plans with Jester's folks for lunch, so Small's grand plan of having them come to GVD and have lunch with us got blown to smithereens before it even left her mouth.
Which it did. More than once. I kid you not, we had the same conversation at least three times between the end of church and when we finally got out the door.
"I want to have Jestewr an' Mitzy come to lunch wif us. An' I want us to go to GVD."
"They can't. They're having lunch with Jester's mom and dad."
Small Fry was very put out by this news, and so was her lower lip. She didn't want Wendy's. She didn't want to go home. She wanted Jester, Mitzy, and GVD. Perhaps she thought they'd change their plans if she asked us enough...even after they'd left.
Hubby had a youth staff meeting/dinner this afternoon, so after my nap (that's an important detail), I came downstairs. Small wanted to go play outside. Sure! Go, run off energy! I shut off the tv and sent everybody outside.
Small then had a conniption about not being able to ride a particular bike; she wanted the one with training wheels. Which, apparently, Medium either was or was not riding. (It's a little unclear.)
"She gave it to me," Medium volunteered as I tried to sort out what was going on and avert catastrophe.
"Why? You don't even need training wheels."
As I was about to turn to Small and explain that she could ride the bike she wanted, words nearly exploded from her mouth. "I wish we could swim in the pool!"
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying not to grind my teeth. "Come in here and ask me nicely."
It took a couple minutes before she was able to understand what I wanted.
"Can we play inna pool?"
"Yes." Oh, a thousand times yes.
I went out and added air to the second ring of our little wader pool, and then hauled over the hose so I could add more water. (Which is when I learned our patio isn't level, but that's another story.)
The kids played semi-happily for about an hour. Unless somebody got wet. Or got splashed. Heaven forbid, since they're playing in a pool.
Small came inside around 5:30 to get dressed, saying she was cold. She joined me in the den.
I would love to know how many minutes it actually was before it happened.
"I wish we could haff mac an' cheese for dinnewr."
"We can have mac and cheese for dinner." However, I wasn't going to make the box kind. No, sir. If we're having mac and cheese, we're having mood food all the way and I'm making it from scratch. And baking it. Yummmmm. Crispy, cheesy goodness. My mood was cheered at the thought.
"Yay!" Small was delighted.
I put a pot of water on to boil. When it was ready, I dumped in a box of penne rigate...Large Fry won't eat mac and cheese unless it's straight noodles, like the box kind. So we compromise with penne, so that she'll eat it when I make it from scratch. The penne holds the cheese better, I think.
"Dat doesn't look like mac an' cheese."
I wanted to bang my head against the wall.
Five minutes later...
"Dat doesn't look like mac an' cheese."
I sat back down in the den, figuring I had a few more minutes before the pasta would be done. Once again, a stopwatch would've been handy.
Harumph. "I wish we could haff someone ovewr for dinnewr. Like Jestewr an' Mitzy." Small has perfected the art of whiny petulance in tone.
At least three times we'd had this conversation at church. At least.
I completely lost whatever patience I had left. "No! We are not having them over for dinner! They had other plans today!"
Why yes, I did shout.
I can't quite say that Small gave me a dirty look. However, that kind of almost long-suffering, poor-me expression on a six-year-old would have been comical if it wasn't happening to me right then.
Her little eyes narrowed and she skewered me with this glare.
And then she proclaimed boldly, "You need a nap!"
*I proved once again that I can still keep up with most doo-wop basses while listening to this song. Ah, I love being a dramatic contralto.