The garage door opens, Maggie hears it from the living room, barks, and proceeds to jump off the ottoman in fury to beat Bennett to the door. B sees what's happening, throws his blue milk zippy cup to the ground and stomps his way to the door in his best hurried toddler fashion. Daddy's home!
Hubs walks through the door with his beaming smile and Bennett runs to him, arms raised, to give Daddy the overly anticipated hug a workday deserves. They snuggle for a minute while Shane exclaims his daily "HI SIR!!!" After they have properly welcomed one another, it's on to me … a smiley kiss, baby in arms, while I'm chopping some vegetables for dinner. It's potato soup tonight.
Hubs and I converse about our day: He had a short drive to Indiana to hit up a few new spots and an afternoon meeting to try and get on tap at a swanky hotel bar downtown. I proceed to explain that Bennett avoided naps like the plague today and has learned nap time is much more fun to instead, throw every single item in his crib over the rails and proceed to say "Uh Oh!" until mommy returns. I give in, as he knows I will, "Fiiiine, come back downstairs and play." Pretty average day around these parts folks.
From stirring vegetables, pureeing potatoes, and picking a toddler up every 5 minutes to show him what is happening on the counter, I almost forget the rolls. "Shane, could you please go snag those for me in the garage?" … typical: he can't find them and brings me the wrong item. Try again, please.
By now, the small boy is ravenous and cannot handle one more minute of not being involved in cooking dinner or helping his daddy try a new competitor's beer … it's time to wrangle him in. The soup is almost complete, just need to add the parsley and a few chopped pieces of bacon and ham. This is surely something Baby B can handle.
Proceed to explain that parsley is green, celery is also green, carrots are orange, potatoes are white and now back to parsley. Let's add it buddy. Explain how to shake and pour it in the pot, help him the first few times. Then brace yourself and give him the glass container to allow him to try himself … he succeeds at shaking and manages to get out PLENTY of the parsley herbs, much to your surprise. But, he fails at actually landing them in the pot. And rather is much more successful at aiming them to scatter about the floor, inside your shirt, and mixed thoroughly in your ponytail. Uhm, hubs … a little help here?
Now, plate dinner. And make something extra special quickly that includes fruit in hopes your toddler will eat tonight. Yea, better go ahead and add the go-gurt as well as the cheese, just in case he prefers one over the other … at least he will get some dairy (although you suspect he won't each much of anything).
Dinner is good, although next time you'll probably add less carrots … there are a little too many for potato soup you decide. It's also becoming more and more clear you suspicions were correct … boy is not eating much of anything. Time for plan B: peanut butter.
You and hubs giggle at the fact your parenting is slowly falling in line with everything you said you'd never do … but sigh and do it anyways. You also slyly smile and can't blame the young tot for his affinity for peanut butter … you didn't really give him much of an option seeing how much you ate while you were pregnant.
You proceed to hand him the spoon with a fresh lump straight from the jar, and quickly turn back to one another to try and finish the story. Much to your horror however, when you turn back around just as you'd expect you are once again reminded of the power of a nearly 15 month old and their will to make a mess. You quickly run to the office to grab your camera, this is one that must be documented.
And so it comes to a close, another beautiful, messy, crazy day :)