Proof is in the something
March 30, 2010
I thought making chocolate pudding would be fun. Noah and I would do it together, just us, during Ezra's nap, making up for a morning of too many cartoons followed by boring, tortuous errands and Mommy Not Being Any Fun Because Mommy Was Really Caught Off-Guard By Spring Break And All This Damn Time To Fill. His occupational therapist would be so proud of me, I thought, for coming up with an easy activity that involves some pouring and stirring and touching sticky things and I was so sure he'd be tempted to at least taste the pudding or lick a spoon and I even promised him chocolate chips, for God's sake. And then he realized that the chocolate chips were going in the pudding, for God's sake, what are you DOING, woman, and then I stirred them up and asked him to lick the spoon and it was messy and all too much and I should have backed off and I didn't and offered him the spoon again and he panicked and screamed at me and cried and I was like, for God's sake, IT'S CHOCOLATE PUDDING but that didn't help and I'm typing this from my room and he's in his room and everybody is mad and stressed out and I'm sorry, Noah, I really just thought making chocolate pudding would be fun.