War Cry

So tonight we had ourselves a moment.  Well, it was more like an hour. 

It was fueled by my not-so-mother-of-the-year actions.

Truth be told, I am not a screamer.  And we don't spank.  So things are usually pretty tame around here.  I DO count to three.  And I am a believer in time out...for their own safety.

Usually when I raise my voice, it's to be heard above the battle.

Not tonight.

I produced a war cry.  And it went on and on.  I even threw a few things.  Not AT anyone, mind you.

When it was all over, my sweet little blond boy ran up to me and gave me a note before retreating.

It said:

To Mommy,
Treat athers the way you wal to be treatid.

And to that I say:

Touche, son.

And I felt bad.  Really bad.  Until I spent an hour mopping up stuck on cereal off my kitchen floor. 

What kind of cereal, you ask?

Jack's favorite, of course. 

They have never been called Honey Smacks at our house.  One day as Jack ate a big spoonful he said:

"These look just like bum cwacks."

Mmmmmm, Mmmmmmmm!

Nothing says sun-shiny morning  like eating a big ole bowl of "bum cracks"

Man, I love that kid.