Today Braeden asked me if he could make lunch. I said a reluctant OK. He made the one and only thing he knows how to make, scrambled eggs. They were perfect. I marveled as I ate the flawless eggs with ham and onions cooked just right. They were good. My mind-with-the-active-imagination thought maybe Braeden could start making lunch every day. Wouldn't that be nice? I would even eat scrambled eggs every day.
Maybe we'd reached a nirvana state with these children of mine. Maybe it was going to be smooth sailing and lunches I didn't have to prepare. Maybe.
Usually Braeden visits his grandpa while I do my errands but today didn't so I took the opportunity to take Braeden to the store with me. The boy needed clothes. And a new bicycle helmet.
"But why do I have to go?" he wondered. Over and over. Each time the answer was: Because. You. Have. To. Try. Things. On.
Then Mark didn't want to go. "Why do I have to go?"
There was a much simpler cure there though. He watched Home Alone at Christmas time and lives in fear of being left home alone (not that we are the type to ever leave kids behind). I told him in my best spooky voice, "You have to come so you won't be left Home Alone." He quick-stepped it to the van.
So with a scowl and a grumble, we were off.
Emma was remarkably pleasant on the drive. I asked her a question and she said, "Mom, I'm imagining a story I want to write so can you please not talk to me."
At least she wasn't mad at me like my sons were.
At Target we selected bicycle helmets and looked at clothes and various other Target like trappings. Target's an OK store to take the group to because when I'm done with Whatever I Need Them for, they can waltz off to the toy aisles while I find Whatever Else I Need.
After I convinced Mark that I really meant it when I'd told him I wasn't buying him a toy, we were off.
The next stop was the mall. I don't remember having such a miserable time at the mall since the last time I took all three children.
My sister told me it couldn't be that bad considering the ages of my kids. It was that bad.
At least when they were young I could corral them in a stroller and placate them with cheerios and a sippy cup. Now they grumble and complain and don't like anything they see and drift away from me in their angst. Except for Mark. He's as pleasant as a sunny day at the mall. He just doesn't stay near enough for me to enjoy his smiles. He's a whirling dervish of Mark-ness in and out of clothing racks, up and down escalators, writhing out of my grasp. Not getting a toy, treat or movie THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
Oh, I was crabby when we left the mall. I was wondering what delusions I live under that I ever go to the mall with my children. I was trying to remember why I homeschool the brood. I was wondering a lot...like how I ever thought we were approaching any sort of nirvana.
Our final stop was Costco. I gave Braeden and Emma half the list and they efficiently met me at the front of the store with their cart. They deftly loaded the contents of their cart into mine. It was quick and snappy and painless.
Maybe easy street isn't SO far out of my grasp.
We're just not there yet.