You know your cooking is bad when...
"Want Mommy's pizza crust."
"Oh, honey, Mommy's pizza crust is too hard to eat, that's why Mommy isn't eating it."
"Want Mommy's pizza crust."
"Okay, but it's pretty hard."
(tries to take a bite) "Pretty hard..."
"Yes, I told you it was hard."
(tries again and succeeds) "There we go!"
I had one lone cracker left on the arm of the couch next to where I was nursing Natalie.
Z had several crackers left on the table next to him.
He took my cracker, and acted as if he was going to eat it.
"Oh, Zachary, you aren't going to eat my last cracker, are you? That will make Mommy sad!"
"Mommy cry!" (he loves when I fake-cry)
His face lights up, and he stuffs my cracker in his mouth. "Ate Mommy's last cracker!" he announces gleefully.
..."And it was good!"
Zachary has also taken to calling me 'honey' quite a lot of the time. Which I think is totally hilarious. He'll yell to me from the living room, "Want a cracker, honey!" in the exact same tone that I would say to him, "Put away the blocks now, honey." or "Leave that alone please, honey."
I think it's good that he picks up on the nice words that I say to him... :) Though, I've always been the kind of person who says those kind of 'sweet' words, even when I'm frustrated with someone. When my Hubby and I were first dating, my BIL used to laugh about how when Hubby & I would disagree on something, I'd say something like, "We'll discuss that later, sweetheart" or "Not right NOW, honey" though clenched teeth. So I guess the fact that he calls me honey does have to do with the fact that he hears it a lot, but that doesn't necessarily mean that he never frustrates me...I mean, come on, he's two. He frustrates me daily. We're actually really struggling with his discipline lately, and would appreciate your prayers for wisdom and consistency in this area of our parenting.
But, as a friend mentioned in a comment on my Facebook page, I am so grateful that children's memories are short. She tells me that he will remember the good times and not the frustrated moments. The moments where we enjoyed each other, and not the moments where I made him sit on his bed for five minutes while I hid in the bathroom because I wanted to scream. And I am thankful for this.
When I think about the kind of home I want to have, and the kind of childhood I want my children to remember, it is not a house filled with yelling, snapping, and grouching. It is a home filled with sunshine and laughter and music and giggles and, most of all, filled with the Spirit. And I need to keep in mind that it may be a dirty or cluttered house, but my children will not remember that, as long as the giggling and cuddling and loving get done each day.