Straining

"Only boring people are bored." That's the quip my mother used to blast me with every summer when I spent most of my day being bored and complaining loudly about it. Why, oh why did she have to give me the mother's curse? St. Nick has been flopping from one piece of furniture to the next, bored bored bored bored.

He wants to use the computer.

I want him to break his digital addiction.

I'm the parent. I need to win.

On another note, this is how my morning went with Mud Pie...

me: (taking her out of snowsuit) Do you want your shoes?

her: shoes! shoes!

me: (trying to put shoes on her)

her: WAAAAHHHHH!!!!!

me: ok, no shoes. I see.

her: SHOES SHOES SHOES!!!

me: you want your shoes?

her: shoes shoes.

me: (approaches with shoes)

her: shaking head "no" and WAAAHHHHHH!

me: (puts shoes away)

her: SHOES SHOES SHOES SHOES!!!!!

me: (approach again)

her: NOOOOOOOO!

me: (backs away quickly)

her: SHOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSS!

me: (puts shoes on floor beside her) Here, shoes.

her: nononononononon! WAAAAHHHHH!

Wailing continued for several minutes while she thrashed on the floor. I at last picked her up (my shoulder is a dried snot slick now), "What is it, Baby?"

"COOOOKKKKKIIIIIEEEEEEE!!!!!"

Gave her a banana, all is well. Still trying to connect this to shoes.