Leaving soccer today, we walked past some cheerleaders. Mac said "Look mom, there are some girls doing girl scout stuff." He might be a bit surprised when he attends his first cub scout meeting later this week.
There's not much to share. Work is keeping me very busy along with trying to keep five children alive. The biggest threat they face most days is a sibling of some sort. Mostly X-Man. He's huge and lives on the warpath. He still likes to hit me when he's angry. Only he's figured out that's not the best idea as far as self preservation is concerned. So while he's screaming and thrashing around, he pats me. There's no honest way to call it a hit. It's most definitely a pat. But I'm fairly certain it's no love pat. I still tell him no hitting mommy and he still doubles down, or better yet, goes limp on the floor. It's no picnic trying to lift 45 pounds of dead, yet outraged, toddler weight.
I'm almost embarrassed to admit my motherhood fail. Which, to regular readers of this blog, is most certainly saying something. I bought Cocoa Puffs for the first, and last time, today. Mac asked for it and I said yes. Mostly for the reason why he wanted it. He wanted the prize inside. A little Minion from a movie. Now, I admit, I have a hard time saying no. Although as the children stack up it does become easier. But Mac has wanted a Minion forever. He almost won one at Six Flags, not once, not twice but three times. Three times he had the Minion in the stupid claw and was carrying it over to the drop slot and, oh what a surprise, it suddenly dropped each time. I'm still annoyed about it, so the way to stick it to the null at Six Flags was most obviously to buy Sugar Frosted Cocoa Bombs. I showed them.
Mac wanted to eat cereal for dinner. I did manage to draw the line there. Probably about six feet too late.