No-Monster

Today was the mother of all “No” Days.

It was miserable.

And I don’t understand what all the fits and tantrums were about.

I even took them to the movie theater this morning.

But I said “no” to popcorn or soda, so the griping began – nevermind the diaperbag FULL of contraband.

The neighbors were outside playing in the sprinklers and my little ones wanted to join in.

I said “no”, and that we needed to have lunch first. Foot-stomping and groaning ensued to such a level that I then had to punish myself by instituting the first-ever grounding. “No friends at all today."

I took them to Wal Mart for a quick browse at cheap shirts for everyone for Family Pictures.

“No” to the rain boots. “No” to the umbrellas (spring is over my dears). “No” to tinkerbell, “No” to Lightening McQueen, “No” to getting out of the cart. “No” to salt water taffy and that was the last straw. Screaming and shouting resulted. I turned a deaf ear, but still had to drag the culprits around with me. I even told them they could pick what they wanted for dinner and we’d get the ingredients for it. But Evan picked “icecream cones” and I had to say “No” once again. Frozen Pizza instead.

We got home. “Is dinner ready yet?”

“No.” “But I’m really really hungry…” whine… whine… whine

“Can I go play with Sydney?”

“No. You’re not allowed to play with friends today.” “Booo hoooo hoooo hooooo!” and body crashings onto the floor.

“Can I have soda".”

“No.”

“Can I have dip with my carrots?”

“No. Sorry. We’re out.”

It just went on and on and on and on. {Reverse those two letters and what do you get? Broken record backward and forward}.

Finally, 8:00 came along with my saving grace. Bedtime. Hallelujah and Amen!

And right afterward, I decided to put the No-Monster to bed as well.

I propped my pillow up and watched America’s Got Talent while I stewed over the events of the day.

A 5-year-old head popped in. Can’t sleep.

Come here and sit with me then.

It was soon followed by a 3-year-old’s face.

Come sit with us sweetie.

So we exed the acts we didn’t like and clapped for the ones we did. And talked about dreams of dancing like that and being a magician like him. And I listened to stories being retold from a “super duper long time ago, guess what…” And I stroked my daughter’s hair and tickled my son’s feet. And it was all just heavenly.

A perfect end to an imperfect day.