The Science Fair was tonight.
I didn't want to go. I'm not a bad Mom, I'm just a little tired of being at the school. I was sporting a mild headache. Bring on the Advil.
Besides, the terror had not slept, and even I know that the answer to this equation is not a neat one:
Tired toddler + lots of people = _______
Even as I told Ben, "We're not going," I could feel myself start watching the clock as the time approached.
All because he'd given me the puppy dog eyes, the ones that said, "Come on, Mom, PLLEEEEEAAAAAAASE? "
Mom's putty in their hands, and they know it.
I'm semi-glaring at him in the kitchen, as Ryan is pilfering through the pantry to get a snack, and saying, "Look, I'm only looking at yours, Nolan's, and Ryan's stuff, and we are leaving. No socializing or goofing off. When it's time to go, it's time to go, and I don't want to hear you bitch..." I pause, and before I can go on, I hear a little voice from the pantry say:
I bowed my head. Thanks, Ryan.
Thanks for providing me yet another reason for watching my language.