“I’m hungy for beakfast, Daddy.”
“Ok, buddy, what would you like?”
“Pirate’s Booty, pease.”
“Well, we don’t eat Pirate’s Booty for breakfast. How about some Cheerios?”
“No! I’m ONLY hungy for Pirate’s Booty. I will NOT eat ANYthing else!”
And so my day begins with a Pirate’s Booty inspired temper tantrum.
Not that I blame the kid. Pirate’s Booty is unnaturally delicious. The light fluffy cheese, the finger lickin’ goodness. I want some, too.
But I can’t teach my children to start their day off with junk food.
“Sorry buddy, but we don’t eat Pirate’s Booty for breakfast. You know that.”
“Mommy lets us.”
Where did he learn to lie? There’s no way she lets them eat Pirate’s Booty for breakfast. Is there?
“Well Daddy is in charge right now, and Daddy doesn’t let you eat Pirate’s Booty for breakfast.”
“But Mommy sometimes lets us!”
Really, Greta? Really?
“I don’t think Mommy lets you eat Pirate’s Booty for breakfast. But I don’t really care. Because Daddy is in charge right now, and Daddy says you have to eat something healthy.”
“No fair!”
Ah, fairness. Now we’re onto something I can understand. As a child, my sisters and I fought constantly. I hated it when my parents resolved our arguments with solutions that weren’t fair. “But that’s not fair, Mom!” I would complain. “Well, life isn’t fair, Chris,” she would respond.
I rarely prevailed in changing my parents’ decisions, but I did graduate from childhood with the desire to make life more fair. I am still trying. I gravitate to conflict situations. Like when little boys who think they can start the day with Pirate’s Booty.
NFW, little man. Your brother is eating Cheerios, you will eat Cheerios.
And he did.
An hour later, my slumbering wife woke up, and this happened:
