It was a morning like so many others.
My son woke up before sunrise. His heavy footfalls on the bunk bed steps would probably wake me anyway, but amplified by the monitor that still sits by my bedside, he sounds like a small elephant crashing through any dream world I might be in. True to form, he barrels into our bedroom, bounding onto my side of the bed, bouncing on his knees, exclaiming, “Look Mom! It’s the sunrise! The Sun is rising! So NOW we can make cupcakes, right?! Now we can make the chocolate cupcakes with the sprinkles?!”
Just the day before, Friday, we had played out this scene: word for word and bounce for sleep crushing bounce. Except, of course, then I had said no. Or more precisely, “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me, dude! No. Way."
Seriously, on a school day?! I liked his teachers, why would I send them a spastic kiddo high on a breakfast of cupcakes?
As a way to stem the whining that started at the exact moment I uttered the dreaded N-O, I allowed as how we didn’t have the ingredients anyway. It was a half day, so maybe we would go after school and pick them up.
While Boy continued to bop on and off the bed, my uncaffinated brains sifted through the promises from Friday afternoon: made & then broken.
A good report from school meant we had gone to the store, he had picked the cake & frosting, but no cupcakes had been made. Chaos had erupted, then time-outs that turned into very late & long naps nixed those Funtime Friday cupcakes plans. New promises of cupcakes for breakfast were made to stem the flow of tears when he woke up and learned we would not have sweets for dinner.
Times like this I question my choices as a parent. Specifically why am I not a bait and switch parent? Why am I not like my husband who says “if you behave now maybe we can go for ice cream later” knowing damn well he will never do it. Because there are times he simply wants some fecking peace, so he will say, “Yeah, we can do that,” rather than dealing with the WhyNotButPleaseLetMe meltdowns.
Nope, not me. At some point I found it easier for me to do what I tell the Rebels I will do. Which sometimes bites me in booty. Like, say, at the crack of dawn on a Saturday when I should be dreaming about baked goods, not debating baking them.
Now of course shite happens, plans change, or (like with the FridayFunday cupcake chaos) behavior warrants punishment or loss of special treats, etc. But if I say yes, I intend to follow through. Which boils down to me saying a lot of NOs. No, you cannot have that toy/sweet/movie/sparkly-cool-object-of-desire right NOW.
As one does, I try to frame the answers as possibilities. We cannot go the zoo today, but we should be able to go next week.
Still I know what my kiddos hear sound an awful lot like the adults in Charlie Brown cartoons: Whaawaa. Whaaawaaa? No, no, nonononono…
So if I was silly enough to say yes last night, you bet your fudge-flavored frosting we are having chocolate fecking cupcakes for breakfast!
Grabbing a hold of my TiggerBoy I exclaimed, "Yes. Yes, that’s what I said last night, right? Of course we will make them this morning!”
I might not have had coffee in me, but I did have my wits enough to follow up to get a bit of wiggle room, “But, I need to take care of a few things first.”
Coffee made, kitchen tidied, laundry rotated, bakeware (unused since our recent move) found, washed, and set up. And then…
There were CUPCAKES!!
Cupcakes for Saturday breakfast.
Yeah, it was sweet. Even if there was still the moment when I had to cut the Boy off from eating the 5th (or was it 6th?) cupcake.
However I hope when my Rebels are no longer little kiddos they remember that sometimes we had cupcakes for breakfast, for no reason at all.
None, that is, except that they asked, and Mommy said “Yes!"
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| *Fanfare trumpets may or may not have been blown. But silly selfies were most certainly taken* |
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