Some nights the kids seem to conspire to turn me, their dad, from a pleasantly fatigued office drone into the worst sort of foul-tempered scrooge. When they're both whiny, and clingy, and refuse to eat supper, and a moment's inattention has them pawing at me to be picked up and coddled (both at the same time, so then they start batting each other about the face, making my grip slightly precarious), it is at those times that I have to breathe deeply and remind myself how very much I love them and that locking them in one bedroom together only sounds like a good idea at the time.
After Wednesday's non-supper, Amy had to step out for a couple appointments, leaving me to wrestle both frustrating lads into the car to go grocery shopping. We needed a few things yet for Dex's big ol' third birthday party this weekend. (The weather currently doesn't see fit to cooperate, but we'll barbeque anyway. If we can barbeque when it's snowing outside mid-winter, we can damned well barbeque in a bit of rain.)
The boys were pretty good at the grocery store, but I was still feeling petulant as we checked out, so I bought myself a Coffee Crisp chocolate bar and ate it on the drive home, knowing what Declan's reaction would be.
"Oh! Daddy, what's dat?"
"Nothing Dex."
"No really Daddy, what is dat?"
"It's my chocolate bar."
"Oh yeah. Mine have some too? Have a bite?"
"Nope. Sorry Dex. You didn't eat any of your supper, so you're bloody well not going to have any of my chocolate bar."
"Not any? Please?"
"Nope. You're not getting jack squat."
[contemplative pause]
"Daddy?"
"Yeah, Dex?"
"Can I have some of jack squat now, too?"
