Nothing beats the sound of deep, hearty belly laughs from your kids...especially when they come three milliseconds after the shallow, grating devil-howls of a mega-tantrum.
Today we were blessed with multiple chances to experience both.
This evening we jumped from a guffaw-filled game of slam-then-pound-the-pantry-door to a tear-filled game of slam-then-pound-whoever-has-the-'bat phone'.
A bit later we had what might go down in the Guinness Record Book as the funniest game of catch ever [based solely on The Wubster's uncontrollable chuckling every time he chucked the ball], which was quickly followed by what might go down in the Guinness Record Book as most shrieks of malcontent during a game of 'put-on-some-underwear-nobody-wants-to-see-your-private-sector-anymore' [based solely on Mini-Me flopping around the house...not THAT Mini-Me, thank you]
Raising kids is wild...no wonder so many children are raised by wolves...who else can handle the quick mood changes.
This morning, Mini-Me threw the tantrum-to-establish-far-worse-tantrums as Rach was trying to get him off to school. He kicked, screamed, and had to be carried shoe-less and coat-free to the car. Once Rach secured the beast inside his steel cage, he proceeded to thrash about, gnawing at the leather upholstery and foaming at the mouth until, at one point, he ended up in only his underwear [You're noticing a pattern, aren't you].
He screamed and pouted, lashing out with "I don't like you"s and "You make me SO mad"s until, about a block from school, a meek, sweet, polite voice wafted from the back seat...
"Mommy, can we go to IGA and get doughnuts, please?"
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