Okay, perhaps this isn’t the correct title, because by the time we got to the point I’m going to write about here, the breakdown had occurred hours before.
I needed to pick Baby Monkey and Monkey Girl up early today, because the three of us had eye doctor appointments. Monkey Girl and I just needed our checkups and to see if our prescriptions needed to be updated after 6 months (surprise…they do) and Baby Monkey was getting checked because of the “episodes” from earlier this year.
So, this was no skin off of Monkey Girls back, but it meant no nap for Baby Monkey.
Let me say that again.
No…nap…for…Baby…Monkey.
Now, Baby Monkey is always adamant that he doesn’t need a nap, but trust me, he does.
So, we go.
It should come as no surprise to the regular “My Real Life” reader that the first words out of Baby Monkey’s mouth were “The eye doctor is boring.” No surprise at all.
From there, it deteriorated quickly. He didn’t want to get checked, squeezed his eyes shut tight, refused to follow the light and just forget about setting his chin in the strap to have the poor doctor look into his eyes.
It was not good.
However, after that, Monkey Girl and I had to go to the optician, as we were both in need of new prescriptions and my glasses broke on Saturday and I’ve been managing by not making any sudden movements with my head for a few days.
So, we go.
At the optician, he takes my glasses so he can fix them. However, I’m legally blind without my glasses on, so I can no longer see exactly what Baby Monkey is doing. I can hear things that sound quite breakable moving around, and can see a blob of movement kind of rolling on the floor, but I can’t quite identify what is happening.
I stumble over to him and try to scoop him up only to find that he has a few pairs of glasses in his hands. I try to put them back, but I can’t see a darn thing and have no idea where they go. We wound up being there for a half hour. Longest half hour of my life.
We came home and my Dad was here with Monkey in the Middle. They were playing a heated game of Scrabble Junior. I started dinner and tried to manage Baby Monkey. By this point, the tears and whining were just non-stop. I knew he was tired, I knew he didn’t feel well, but I have never heard anything like the fuss this kid was making.
“When is dinner ready?”
“In an hour.”
“I want my dinner hot and cold.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means I want it hot and cold and not in an hour, but now!”
“Well, it’s not going to be ready for an hour.”
“I want dinner now.”
And so on and so on and so on.
My Dad finished his game with Monkey in the Middle and beat a hasty retreat, after declining my offer for him to take Baby Monkey home with him. I really can’t imagine why he declined!
So, no one had homework so the big kids decided to see if there were any new episodes of Phineas and Ferb on the DVR. We have it set to record any new, first run episode. There were two and the kids were thrilled. They LOVE that show. So do I. I think it could be one of the most creative kids shows on television.
But, I digress.
So, I bring my laptop downstairs and sit with them on my bed while they watch. Baby Monkey sits on my lap and decides that he wants to sit on my arms so I cannot type, as I try to do some work for school.
I try to explain why that won’t work and he’s not buying it.
I remind myself, “he’s tired, he doesn’t feel good.”
So, I put away the laptop and offer to just hold and snuggle him.
Nope…not good enough.
He’s back to wanting dinner immediately. It’s only 4:30. Dinner won’t be ready until 5:11. Yes, that’s right. 5:11.
I manage to get through the next 41 minutes, barely managing to keep myself in check as I deal with one ridiculous outburst after another. If he wasn’t upset about one thing, it was another. There was absolutely no making this kid smile.
5:11
Dinner.
We’re happy.
Right?
Wrong.
Apparently, dinner wasn’t “hot and cold” as he had wanted it to be, and the tears, which never really stopped, started all over again.
“I don’t like this dinner. I won’t eat this. Baked Macaroni and Cheese is boring!”
All of this with him throwing himself on the table, on the floor, across his chair.
Oh the drama.
However, he ate. Eventually.
The big monkeys wanted apple pie for dessert. Baby Monkey wanted grapes.
I’m totally down with that.
So, grapes it was.
Until I look over and see that he is peeling each grape and dropping the little, tiny peels on the floor around his chair. He looked like he was sitting in a rose garden with lovely rose petals surrounding him.
Except they weren’t rose petals.
They were tiny pieces of grape peel.
They were smushy and gross.
Now, time to take the medicine.
Normally, Baby Monkey is a good little medicine taker. Actually, all of the monkey s are pretty good with the meds.
We were at the doctor this morning and she said he must be taking Benadryl before bed, as he is really, really stuffy.
So, Benadryl it was.
Two guesses if he wanted to take it.
First one doesn’t count.
At that point, I decided to take out the camera.
I realized that no one would believe the drama surrounding this afternoon/early evening without some photographic evidence.
So, now I share with you how the medicine taking progressed. This entire photo series took about 13 minutes.
And then, it happened.
Then the sun began to shine.
Of course, it’s an hour later now and he’s crying about something else, but I guess when you are three and you’ve missed your nap, really anything is something to cry about.
I forget, sometimes, what it must be like to not have words for everything you are feeling. I’m the word/emotion master. I feel an emotion for everything and have all the words I need to describe them. In detail. To anyone who is willing to listen.
Baby Monkey? Not quite as many words. Oh, he’s a talker, but still, when the chips are down, he doesn’t always have the right words, and that’s got to be frustrating as heck.
So, the lesson for me today?
The kid needs a nap.
What? You thought it would be deeper?
