Wednesday, December 24, 2008
If You Give a Mouse a Cookie...
In the book, the mouse wants a cookie. So this little boy gets one out of the packaging and gives it to him. And then the mouse wants some milk to wash it down with. So the kid opens the fridge, gets the milk, pours it into a cup, screws the lid back on the milk, and puts it back in the fridge. And then the mouse is concerned that he has a milk moustache. So the kid has to lift the mouse up to the mirror to see. And then the mouse decides that he needs a haircut, so he asks for scissors. So the kid has to go find some scissors. And on and on. It ends up that the mouse decides to draw a family portrait, wants it taped to the fridge, wants a nap, changes his mind, sweeps the entire house, but doesn't finish the job by putting it into the dustpan, etc. And at the end, this poor kid is falling asleep, surrounded by a huge mess from just helping this mouse with his whims.
Um, that is so me. I spend my entire day helping my kids with their whims. Because they're too little to get most things by themselves. And they need supervision for some things. And then I have to sit and make them clean up their messes. Because if it was up to them, they would just make mess after mess, jumping from whim to whim to whim. But, again, with some things, they need help cleaning up. So at the end of the day, do I have anything to show for all the work that I've done? Nope. The dishes are still not done. The laundry is still not done. The dinner is still not made. All because of these little high-maintenance "mice" of mine. Ben jokes that I sit and eat grapes all day, and boy, do I ever wish that was true. I don't even think I sit down, ever, in the course of a normal day. Just so busy.