As a mom, I always worry about what will happen if I were to get too sick to care for my family. Would they survive a day, a week? Now, the hubbers, he would survive- a debit card and a drive thru, yup, he would make it. What about Setti? Well, she would probably use my debit card to order pizza everyday, yup, she would survive. (Until the money ran out that is!) But what about the boys?
Those poor, sweet, adorable, innocent, helpless boys... Okay, lets be real. They may be three and four, but they are not helpless! Today I feel a little under the weather, so I'm camped out on the couch trying to get some much needed rest and sipping on tea. It got very quiet in the house, and I heard the boys discussing why mommy left toast on the counter for them. (I didn't leave it for them, I simply forgot to eat my toast.) At some point I dosed off and in true mommy fashion, kept my ears open. I heard noises in the kitchen and for the most part, ignored it because my children would never do anything bad, right?? Hmmm...
I woke up when I heard, "Get the knife Adam, get the biggest one that you can find. This is going to take work." WAIT- WHAT??? So Adam has a butter knife (that's the only knives that they are allowed to touch), and both are trying to cut their sandwich in half. Sure, it had so much peanut butter that it made my cholesterol go up just by looking at it and the jelly was more on their shirts than on the sandwich, but it could only be called a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I was actually impressed! I am a little ashamed that I did not make it for them, after all, aren't moms supposed super women who make pb&j sandwiches and cutoff the crust to make them easier to eat? I suppose that I can take a day off and let them help themselves.
Now if I could only teach them to bring me a snack...and a Rockstar.
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