Thursday, February 13, 2014

Brotherly Love

As a parent routine is key. Of course there are benefits like predictability and comfort for the kids, but the real bonus is being able to save on parental brain-space. Since the big guy arrived, almost five years ago, I go about my days with less than my brain power at any given time. At times it is only moderately impaired, while at others it is fully disfunctional. This haze comes from the continuous combination of sleep deprivation, worry for the little ones' health and safety, education and enrichment, not to mention financial stresses of extra food, constantly shrinking clothing, quality daycare, and actually doing stuff (activities).

Routine is what keeps me operational. Our daycare routine is pretty well established. At pick-up time I grab the big guy, gather his clothes (coat, snowpants, boots, mitts, toque - heh it's Canada and it's winter) and his artwork (there is always some new masterpiece) and whatever else is accompanying us (really I wouldn't be surprised if one day it's a full sized elephant) and we head across the hall for his brother. As the little one, #MaxLoco, is only starting to communicate, it's easier to throw his scribbles in the garbage find another more deserving home for his objets d'arts, so really it's just getting his coat and him to the door.

Today, Senior Loco decided to switch it up. Rather than make a bee-line for the exit, as is normal practice, he thought it hilarious to run and hide. Up the ramp, down the ramp, around the ramp, behind the ramp. Whichever way I went, he'd lurk, lure me in and then take off. Being less than 100% (have I bemoaned this dreadful cold yet?) and loaded down with the big guy's all and sundries, I was reluctant to chase. OK. I flat out couldn't manage it.

It was time to dig into the parental toolbox, otherwise known as tactics that may scar for life but seem wholly appropriate at the time.

I went for it "See you later Max! We're leaving!" and I headed for the door. Too my surprise, it wasn't the little one who came running. His big brother abandoned his gentlemanly post holding the door open and rushed to the little one's side.

"Noooooo! We are not leaving Max behind!" he yelled and promptly burst into tears as he embraced the errant toddler in a bear hug.

So yes, I felt bad. And we were no closer to leaving daycare.

Lesson learned. Until next time.

And for those who were wondering, we did make it home, but I think I can skip a trip to the gym this week.

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