I was working on some photo editing, Thing2 was playing with a friend on the front porch and Thing three came up to me with a request.
Thing3: mommy, I wanna pea-nut-but-ter poon.
Me: Ok, just a minute.
I was in the middle of selecting in photo shop, and I just knew if I walked away I would end up having to start from step one all over again. Something I try to avoid at all costs. I try to save this kind of thing for nap time, or TV time, but Diego is over and Thing3 is going through a growth spurt, showing off an alarming ability to divest us of enormous quantities of food at regular intervals. I know his tummy is probably rumbling, but if I could just finish the step I was on before I lost my train of though, I would be glad to get him whatever he wanted. Unfortunately, Thing3 is familiar with my short term memory, so “just a minute” was not going to cut it this time.
Thing3: Momeeeeeee, I wanna ne-nut-butter poon! Please?
Me: Ok, ok….
I tried quickly to finish it up, ignoring the bobbing head by my elbow and the high pitched “eeeee” noises at the end of my name, which were, incidentally, getting louder and higher pitched. So close! I tried to block him out- I was almost…. I exhaled loudly, having finished my train of thought with actions. A quick save and voila!
Me: Done! There! I’ll get your spoon, come on little man, lets get a peanut butter “poon”.
Thing3: Yeah, a poon. (nodding his pumpking sized head in agreement) a poon.
So I ruffle his outgrown Mohawk, and walk the three steps toward the kitchen, with him skipping and singing a happy tune under his breath along my side. I reach into the pantry and retreive the peanut butter jar. Its frighteningly light. In fact- I tossed it lightly into the air- it is no where near the 16 oz it claims to be. I look at my son, who grins in anticipation back at me. I sigh, mentally preparing myself for the moment of crushing reality when I tell him there isn’t any peanut butter left. He haphazardly thrusts a clean spoon at me, trying to hurry along the process.
Me: Hey buddy….
Thing3: No! No! Oh No….
He covers his eyes, spoon still in hand, small fists dug into his eye sockets. I haven’t even told him its empty yet, but my tone is enough to indicate the morning program is not going as anticipated. And since the only thing he is anticipating is a peanut butter spoon, his little gears turn furiously, jumping to the right conclusion. In tones of grave disappointment- tones that indicate he knows whats coming but is hoping with every fiber of his being the answer will not be what he knows it to be, he seeks clarification from me.
Thing3: es empty? No pea-nut-but-ter poon? no poon? all gone? es empty?
Me: Well let me check.
I open the jar, but I have already lost him; he has turned away and is muttering the words “empty pea nut butter. es all gone” in tumultuous tones, and taking deep steadying breaths in an effort not to loose it. To my surprise, there is a substantial amount of peanut butter clinging to the sides of the jar. To my delight, it is more than enough to provide a heaping tablespoon full, which I wave tantalizingly in front of my two year old’s upturned face.
Thing3: es not empty!
Me: Not yet! Here is your peanut butter spoon.
Thing3: Yeah, my poon! Thanks!
And off he hops, licking at the protein packed peanut butter spoon like it was a cherry flavored lollypop. I heave my own sigh of relief and return the nearly empty jar of peanut butter to the shelf. I figure I have a spoon in a half – two spoons, if I am not overly generous in the quantity provided- to use for treating – both of the political and enjoyable variety- later on in the day should I be in need of it. I listen as my son talks to the cat and my daughter runs in the door bawling about playing at the park. Yep. I am going to need to buy some more peanut butter.
Lesson of the day- even if your peanut butter jar is less than half empty, there is still some left, and that is far from empty when the serenity of your household hangs in the balance….
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