Tuesday, December 06, 2005
The Law of Unintended Consequences
Two days a week, after I take Max to school, I have a 30 minute hiatus before Boo is due at church school. Some days that's enough time for me to order, and receive, a decaf grande non-fat latte with one package of white sugar and chocolate powder on top. On other days, Boo and I head straight to St. Luke's, arriving long before the 9:00 bells ring (the church bells, of course). Then our ritual involves a detour to the library, which, I'm happy to report, still houses a familiar-looking card catalogue. My own memories of the church library are fond ones, as both a refuge from the confines of the pew and a repository for Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys mysteries. I loved those books.
Boo's current literary taste runs more towards farm animals, with particular deference to If You Give a Pig a Pancake. In case you've missed it, the book is a whimsical exploration of what might ensue should you happen to serve flapjacks to a passing swine: If you give a pig a pancake, she'll want syrup to go with it. And then she'll get sticky and want a bath. And then she'll ask for bubbles and a rubber ducky, which will make her homesick and she'll want to go visit the farm where she grew up. So she'll go to your room and get a suitcase from under the bed. And so forth.
I was reminded of this book as our evening unfolded like this:
If you give a kid spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, he'll throw up on your white bedspread.
While you're trying to salvage the linens, he'll climb onto the dryer.
While he's on the dryer, he'll get his hand stuck in a bimetal can. (That would be the can that was on its way to the recycling bin when he threw up on the bed.)
If you extricate his hand from the can, he'll refuse to go to bed. (But no cuts, thank goodness!)
And so it went, from 7:00, when Max slid easily into bed, until 9:30, when, in spite of himself, Boo fell asleep.
I'd have happily settled for a sticky pig.
Boo's current literary taste runs more towards farm animals, with particular deference to If You Give a Pig a Pancake. In case you've missed it, the book is a whimsical exploration of what might ensue should you happen to serve flapjacks to a passing swine: If you give a pig a pancake, she'll want syrup to go with it. And then she'll get sticky and want a bath. And then she'll ask for bubbles and a rubber ducky, which will make her homesick and she'll want to go visit the farm where she grew up. So she'll go to your room and get a suitcase from under the bed. And so forth.
I was reminded of this book as our evening unfolded like this:
If you give a kid spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, he'll throw up on your white bedspread.
While you're trying to salvage the linens, he'll climb onto the dryer.
While he's on the dryer, he'll get his hand stuck in a bimetal can. (That would be the can that was on its way to the recycling bin when he threw up on the bed.)
If you extricate his hand from the can, he'll refuse to go to bed. (But no cuts, thank goodness!)
And so it went, from 7:00, when Max slid easily into bed, until 9:30, when, in spite of himself, Boo fell asleep.
I'd have happily settled for a sticky pig.
1 Comments:
Oh, poor Boo! Poor bedspread! Poor Melanie! I hope tomorrow is a better day for all involved.
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