How to Buy Your Kids Love with Food

I have to share, because we just experienced the most delicious thing in the history of delicious things (not exaggerating). Grilled PB, Chocolate and Banana Sandwich!

How To:

Take two slices of bread, spread peanut butter on one. Then sprinkle with milk chocolate chocolate chips. Then slice banana all over it. Put other piece of bread on top. Now, here's the tricky part... Butter both sides of the outside of the sandwich, then grill on a griddle or in a pan as you would a grilled cheese sandwich until both sides are toasty and the chocolate chips are all melty and gooey and it smells like pure awesomeness. It's done! Now taste it. Now die a little. Now say goodbye to all your swimsuits for this summer bc you'd rather way 500lbs and never wear one again then ever stop eating this sandwich. Make it for your kids- they'll love you forever! ;)

Pooh Shoes

Do you ever get yourself something ridiculous just because you know it will make your kids smile? My sense of fashion has changed dramatically since I had kids. And not just in the "this is comfy and practical and will have dried oatmeal on it by 7am anyway so who cares what it looks like" sort of way, but I find myself shopping and saying to myself, "That shirt has Mickey Mouse on it, how much would The Princess LOVE it when she saw me wearing that?" And that's how I choose a lot of my clothing these days. That's why Daddy has Angry Birds pajama pants and I bought Minnie Mouse lounge pants and Pingu socks. Are we alone in our insanity or do other people do this too? So anyway, the other day I'm perusing Kijiji under the search "Pooh" because The Princess is OBSESSED, and I stumble across these gigantic, plush Pooh head slippers... For adults. And just my size too! Only $2, so I think, it's worth two bucks to see the look on her face when I wear them. Hee hee, Mommy is so sly, I think to myself. Needless to say, she liked them. A lot. Too much. They were a big hit, so long as I didn't mind dragging her around by my ankles all morning while she clung to my slippers screaming, "New Pooh MINE!!!!", over and over again. Sigh.

Confession: I don't iron

I got the kids a toy washer/dryer today. It has an ironing board on the side and a toy iron. I picked it up and put it in The Princess' room while Little Man was at pre-school. When he got out of the tub tonight he walked by her room and stopped. He said, "Hmm... Something is different here." I said, "Oh yeah? Like what?" He practically rolled his eyes at me, apparently he's getting too old for me to play dumb with, lol. "That! That washer is new!"
Anyway, we went in to play with it, and he knew that the doll clothes went in the washer first, then the dryer, but he had to ask me, "What's this thing?" It was an iron. Oh geez, Mama doesn't iron, lol. He's probably never seen one in his life. I demonstrated how it works and told him what its purpose is. He looked at me like I had three heads. He's playing with it now. The iron is a "scanner" that scans the clothes for dirt before they go into the wash.... Whatever.

Dreaded Bedtime

Why, oh why, Princess, do we have to go through this same routine every single night? Every. Single. Night. After bath, pajamas, and books, I tell her it's time to lay down. She says, "NO!" I say, "lay down, or I'm going to leave... 1 (pause), 2 (pause), 3 (reminder), 4 (extra long pause... Last chance, come on let's not do this again tonight PLEASE!), 5. Ok, I'm outta here. Good night." I think most parents will be familiar with the count down. Some do three, I'm a five kinda girl. So I leave, close the door behind me. Commence what I like to call Total Toddler Meltdown. Crying, screaming, kicking and pounding on the door. I only wait about 2 minutes, thei ask through the door, "Are you ready to lie down now?" I hear a sobby, "yesh", (she has a lisp right now, it's adorable), so I go in, she gets into bed, cuddles into her pillow and says, (here comes the kicker, melts my heart every time), "Torry Mommy." Awwwwwww! Ok, you're forgiven.

But WHY do we have to do this every night? She knows I'm serious about leaving when I count. I win every night, and yet every night she has to give it a try at saying no to me. I'm chalking this one up to "the joys of two year olds".