Being a referee is the job I least enjoy about motherhood. Having to decide 'who fouled who', the appropriate penalty, and when they just need to get kicked out of the game. It's a nonstop job with my boys.
Harrison came to me complaining that Gavin wasn't sharing his ice cream with him. I was confused, asking, "What ice cream? I didn't give Gavin any ice cream." Harrison responds in a super-whiny voice, "Ugh, Mom, it's pretend ice cream and he's not sharing!" Patience having waved bye-bye, and not being able to pretend I'm someplace far, far away, I respond in a less-than-mother-of-the-year tone, "just pretend you've got your own stinkin' ice cream. Tell 'em yours has sprinkles and syrup, too."
I have a hard enough time dealing with the real fights, toy-stealing, pushes, and punches. When we start talking fantasy, I'm done. Can't go there.
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How funny!
ReplyDeleteOh that's so funny!! Having to referee pretend fights as well as the real ones will REALLY burn you out fast! I love your creative approach!!
ReplyDeleteThat's awesome! I totally wasn't expecting that and I love it! You are such an amazing example of a mother of 2 boys, Greta! As an only child myself, I will be calling on you for advice soon I'm sure!
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