Tonight was a big night in the BoyMommy household - Small had his first solid food. (Solid meaning liquid rice, but it counts.)
It was a big hit:
This is one of the reasons why I don't cook. The first reason is because it always takes more effort to make dinner than it does to eat it. The second is that the above photo is the general reaction I get when I cook something. Granted, all I had to do tonight was mix the water with the rice cereal, but still. Everyone's a critic. I'm not exaggerating when I say there's a lot of vomiting happenin' at the dinner table. Medium always puts too much food in his mouth, so then I have to do the "napkin boat" in order to catch whatever's coming back out. Large is such a picky eater that he'll take one bite of something new and then start gagging. Hubby doesn't vomit, but he does complain that the chicken is too dry, which is true, but I am very concerned that he'll contract salmonella. Cooking chicken for a LONG time reduces that risk. See? I love him and I don't want to poison him with my epicurean endeavors. If I'm going to poison him, I'll be much more subtle about it. And I probably won't mention it here, but you never know.
After a nutritious meal of bagel bites for the solid food-eating children, I asked Medium if he wanted to take the dog for a walk. We walked about a mile the other evening, so I was thinking this could be our new Mommy & Medium & Small activity for nights when Large and Daddy are at football practice. Medium`, ever the negotiator, said he would only go for a walk if he could bring snacks. Clearly, he's his mama's boy and the valuable lesson I have taught him is that schnacky-schnacks make every activity better. I told him no, he didn't need snacks because we had just finished dinner. So we made break and bake cookies instead. While we waited for them to cool, I had him jump in the bath - another fine parenting moment: using cookies as a reward/incentive for taking a bath. That child really needs to marinate in the bath, so I do what I can to make it less traumatic for all involved.
He undressed and I noticed when he removed his shorts that he did NOT remove underwear. He totally went commando at school today. I could have saved a lot of money during back-to-school shopping if I had never bought him underwear, because apparently, for him, it is not a necessity. Let me be clear: I wear underwear EVERY day. It's very important to me. I put it on first and take it off last, and if I'm ever involved in a traffic accident in which I must be transported via ambulance to the nearest hospital, I WILL be wearing clean underwear.
Hubby wears it EVERY day, although periodically he gets confused about why he doesn't have underwear in his drawer. I have high standards for my family's foundation garments. When his underwear a) gets gray from repeated washings, b) loses its elasticity to the point where Dan Goodman AND Roseanne Barr could fit into it, and/or c) it gets holey in areas where it should be closey, I take it upon myself to retire it. After a while his underwear supply depletes and he starts complaining that I obviously don't do the laundry often enough, at which point I purchase new underwear for him. This is how he became the proud owner of Batman boxer-briefs.
So, you see, Mommy and Daddy have tried to convey to our children that underwear is not a luxury, but a necessity. It's a cotton and elastic support system that should never be viewed as a burden. Sometimes it can even be fun, which is why Medium has a plethora of "manly" underwear choices, ranging from Indiana Jones to Iron Man to the Incredible Hulk. How can he possibly be more comfortable without underwear, and doesn't he worry about dangerous zipper mishaps?
Over and out.
(And stop picturing my husband in his Batman britches.)