ANY NEWS FROM LIFE WITH TWO CHILDREN?

“Children are like ice cream. They’re messy, melty, brain-freezing, but you can’t get enough of them.”

DINNER

Dinners are still not good. Throughout the year, I once heard from the children that I had finally managed to make a good dish, it was pasta in mushroom sauce. This year I didn’t make this dish for the first time, but I think my son was in a good mood and that’s why I accepted the praise. Generally speaking, for my children, the best dish is the pasta itself – without the sauce, which they usually call “awful slime”.

The tomato soup they ate at grandma’s on the weekend was ok. I had the same soup a week later, it’s red and my kids don’t like that color anymore. And since they don’t like the color, they hypothetically don’t like the taste either.

In Dora’s world cutlery are still different for everything. There must be a smaller spoon for porridge, a larger one for soup, a plastic spoon for yogurt, and for mixing tea with a “Mickey label”. It’s best to take it from Patrick if he can’t see because today this spoon is Dora’s favorite.

I’ve already written that Patrick has incredible patience. https://littlepuzzlesandme.com/the-specialist-in-childrens-morning-dramas-wanted-immediately/

For him, taking a spoon is not a problem. The same with sharing. But as they say, there are as many characters as there are children, and it is true.

SPEAKING OUT

The older son is much better at speaking politely. The younger daughter also already knows which words are forbidden, uncultured considered vulgar, e.g. the word – SHIT. However, in the elevator with the two older ones, my daughter tells me the following story:
...” And Mom, I tell Simon he shouldn’t say shit, just poop, and he says he’s going to the toilet to do shit. And I tell him that you can’t say “shit” and he doesn’t listen”.
My son interrupts the conversation:
“You have to tell the teacher that Simon says “shit” because that’s not how you talk, right, Mom?
And I try not to look at the women’s reactions. We get off the elevator, I’m all sweaty and I answer in a calm voice:
“Your mother tells you so many times not to use this word, and yet you have such a conversation in front of two ladies”.

My daughter firmly replies:
“We don’t say “shit” Mommy, Simon does!”

JEALOUSY

“Patrick, will you go to grandma’s after school on Friday night?”
“Why? Are you going out without us again? You go to parties all the time and we don’t go anywhere?!”

To sum up, Patrick has gone to 6 birthday parties at list in this year, 12 trips to the cinema with friends, and 20 trips with his grandparents to restaurants, play centers, and swimming pools.
We – one birthday trip for dinner and one to the cinema with my husband. Oh no, my bad, this year we went to the cinema only with our children to watch cartoons.

Dorothy, on the other hand, only wants to be with me, preferably without her brother, because why does he and Dad even exist?
I explain to her:
“Dora, Patrick was the first in Mom’s belly, he took care of you when you came from the hospital. He gave you toys, fed you, watched over you. This is your little brother and I am also his Mommy.”
“He is not my little brother and you are not his Mommy, I was first in Mommy’s tummy.”

And end the conversation.

But she’s really good at complaining about her dad and brother and she comes out on top.

• “Mom, Patrick took your chocolate and ate it.”
• “Mommy, I put the plate in the dishwasher and Patrick and Daddy didn’t.”
• “Mom, I heard Dad talking on the phone and making an appointment with Daniel for a beer on Friday evening.”
• “Dad didn’t want to pick me up when we were coming back from the store.”

And I know he had shopping bags and his hands were full, but I always laugh a lot at these stories of “poor Dora”. How well she knows how to protect herself and always presents herself in the best light.

So not much has changed for me. We are still in the same precious family bubble. My children are still in charge at home. Every day I pick them up from school and wait for another amazing story, sometimes less real, sometimes less cultural, but they share it with me. They greet me with a hug and a smile.

It doesn’t matter if I hear a compliment about a good dinner, what matters is their feelings and the time spent with them. They are my children.