This morning I thought I would go to the grocery store and buy milk. We were out of milk. So I thought I would go to the store and get milk and that would be that. We would come home with our milk, eat cereal and then get on with our lives and find the cure for age spots or build a fort in the den out of blankets. Either one.
So I mentioned to the little boy that we should get in the car and go buy some milk and if – IF! – he was a good boy and a cooperative boy, there could be something in it for him. It is probably an indictment of my parenting that I no longer even bother to pretend that bribery isn’t central to my parenting philosophy. It is. Don’t judge me people. Anytime I can buy some cooperation for $1, I’m in.
If you don’t have a three-year-old, then perhaps you are imagining that we jumped in the car, drove to the store, bought milk and a matchbox car and came home.
If you have a three-year-old, then you know that we didn’t leave for the store for another two and half hours.
What could take two and a half hours you are wondering? I wonder this too. Here is what I remember:
There was dawdling, dragging, dilly dallying, frittering, loitering, lolling and lollygagging, slithering, dithering, stalling, straggling as well as horsing and monkeying around. There was a lost shoe, a boo boo, a shirt with an itchy tag and the grand finale — the announcement of a poopy diaper just as I snapped the latch on the car seat.
So then, we went back in the house and repeated the above in reverse order. By late afternoon, I decided we didn’t really need milk that bad.
And there you have it. That’s what I do all day.