We seem to have solved the little nap problem with my three-year old. By solved, I mean we have acquiesced to the fact that he will only take a nap every other day, leaving the “off” days as a training ground for the “Marathon of Patience” – A game of tolerance to test just how late into the evening we can go before falling apart into a mess of tears on the kitchen floor. I of course, am speaking of myself, not the three-year old.
I find that due to my competitive nature, everything is more fun with a challenge involved. Can we make it to 6:00? How about 7:00? 7:30? Now, that’s pushing it, but one day we’ll get there. I can feel it!
On these marathon days, we do our best to arm ourselves with good choices and a few unbreakable rules.
No over-stimulating entertainment (i.e. television, i-pad, etc…this “unbreakable” rule has yet to remain unbroken on any given evening, but is still on the list simply because it should be)
and most importantly…
Over-tired mixed with a dash of sugar = The most dangerous of toddler cocktails.
A few evenings ago…
An “off” day…
Let the games begin!
Somehow a box of popsicles made its way into our freezer. I believe this contraband was smuggled in by guests, although it’s entirely possible that I purchased them under duress, grocery shopping with a toddler while on the phone with the insurance company squabbling over a measly $14,000 bill. I don’t know, and it’s neither here nor there.
There they were. In all of their artificial-dye glory, seducing my children like a sparkling cut-glass candy jar.
“Aww. What the heck? Go outside. Slurp up your blue and red goo and be merry while I cook us up some sugar-free dinner, wont you? How bad can just one silly popsicle be?”
Approximately one hour later…
I cannot begin to describe the horrifying transformation that occurred as my son spun off his axle, wreaking unprecedented havoc like a mini Tasmanian Devil on speed.
I actually fished through the garbage to find the empty popsicle box buried under chewed quinoa and spinach to see if “speed” ‘might be listed somewhere in fine print in the list of ingredients.
I didn’t actually find that word per se, but I’m certain that the combination of the 47 items I couldn’t pronounce was just another way of listing it.
Needless to say, the remainder of the evening did not win me the gold medal, but I took comfort in the fact that I would be allowed a re-entry to the competition in a short 48 hours.
Call me crazy, but I decided to revisit the popsicle idea.
This time however, I chose to be able to pronounce all of the FOUR ingredients.
I remembered that a friend of mine who works in the PR department for the Baby Bullet sent me one of these cool kitchen gadgets to try. I decided to put my own spin on their “Totsicle” recipe. Using fresh strawberries, pears (carrots and zucchini…shhhh), I blended up my own frozen dessert…sans uppers.
Mr. Tasmanian did not make an appearance post-popsicle ingestion and he was not missed.
I won’t say that the evening rolled along without its bumps. That is far too much to ask from a nap-free day. But I would definitely say that I went to bed with the silver medal.
I sent this story to my friend to thank him for the Baby Bullet and he kindly offered a “giveaway” for my readers. Check out my Facebook page (to the right) and qualify for a free baby bullet system!
Because really, isn’t the witching hour hard enough without speed in our toddlers’ desserts?