This morning Tommy started freaking out because he couldn't find his Curious George doll.
I'm talking red face, tears running down his cheeks, howling at the top of his lungs freaking out.
My same reaction when I couldn't enjoy my chocolate properly, thanks to Waffle [Fetus].
This was not how I wanted to wake up.
I suppose I could have ignored him but this house is so small, he could stand in any room and you'd hear him. Of course I told him it was not appropriate to shout over a missing toy. I explained that I understood that the toy was important to him (I learned that in all my child care classes--show the child that you understand their anger--CHECK) but that we'd find Curious George later.
Tommy wasn't having it.
He screamed, "GEORRRRRGEEEEE!" as though he'd keel over if he didn't have George in his hands right then and there.
"George went on vacation. He'll be back later," I replied and then asked what he wanted for breakfast.
"I don't think we should eat George for breakfast," I said, trying to bring in a little humor.
Tommy wasn't amused.
"Where is GEORGE?"
What I wanted to say was this: "Quite frankly Tommy, I don't give a rat's ass where George is. I'm still tired, the construction crew woke me up again, I'm hungry I'm thristy, I just want to get you some breakfast so you're quiet for at least ten minutes.."
I didn't say this of course.
We eventually found George. I did, really.
I went upstairs, tired of hearing the whining, and found George hidden by Tommy's many Elmos. (We had an Elmo obsession when he was younger.)
I brought George downstairs and handed him to Tommy.
"Oh GEORGE!" Tommy said cheerfully.
He played with him for all of five minutes and then cast him aside.
He had that horrible fit for five minutes of play.
It's mornings like these where I understand people muttering, "I need a drink.."
Because I did need one.
Which I obviously couldn't have.
Because A) I'm with child and B) drinking at 10 in the morning probably constitutes me as an alcoholic.