Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Eat Your Dinner!


A few nights ago I had a headache coming on as I prepared dinner. It felt like the kind of pain that I can usually make disappear with a large drink of water, some good food and a nap, so I avoided taking anything for it in the hopes that it would just leave me.

By the time dinner rolled around, the kids were bouncing off the walls with an amazing amount of energy and the headache was still there. I got everyone seated and dished up so we could start to eat.

As we began to eat our dinner, Little O and Hubba decided it was necessary to sing the well-known music riff from "The Final Countdown".

Loudly. Repeatedly.

I kept my cool. I asked them to stop and eat. The headache grew. They sang again. I said please. Nothing worked. One of them always resumed singing. After the 23rd or so time of hearing their "Neer-na-neer-NEER, neer-na-neer-neer-NEER..." I felt the tension building up, and the headache controlling my brain would no longer let me contain it. Before I could stop myself, I screamed out,

"WOULD YOU GUYS PLEASE JUST BE QUIET AND SING!"

There was a moment of shocked silence amongst the kids as it slowly registered in my brain that I had meant to say eat instead of sing.

But before I could correct myself, All-a-Boy broke the silence with a quiet, "Neer-na-neer-neer, neer-na-neer-neer-neer..." and before we knew it, everyone was laughing.

Even me.

4 comments:

Linn said...

You are so fabulous! And I have done something similar way too often. I love it!

Rachel said...

How in the world must our kids take us seriously when we can't even spit out what it is we're trying to say??

I try to sternly say something and it comes out something like, "Would you please sit down and peas your eat???

Yeah..... I get your Gerb dilemma Gerb. I sadly do.....

Richard & Natalie said...

Hee, hee, hee...leave it to All-a-Boy!
I have a theory for what happened to you. It is called mother's brain. We loose brain cells with each birth of a child. The cells are only replaced/regenerated when the child gives us grandchildren. At least, that is what I am using as my excuse. :)

Sarah said...

I'm blaming mine on pregnant brain, but I told my 7-year-old to stop talking and eat his math today.

LOVE those laughable (though sometimes tough) Momma moments!