Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Hassle Time

Verb: Harass; pester.
Noun: Irritating inconvenience. 

Crash can be a, how should I phrase it, hyper verbal child at times. This can be a good thing, but at times will drive his mother batty. Take for example, oh say, the fifteen hundred reasons why he can not possibly wear underwear, or the thousand reasons why the socks in his hand are not THE short socks. The attention to detail that this child posses is mind numbing and completely exhausting. Enter Hassle Time.

This "irritating inconvenience" or "pestering" now has a name and I have a fantastic strategy for dealing with it. Crash is free to lament until his heart is content and I will happily listen to it. I just now have one eye on the clock. Before I start timing, I tell Crash I would love to listen to everything he has to say about his underwear, I am just going to start hassle time. For every second I spend, I get to redeem later on, maybe I need some quiet mommy time, or extra time to prep something for myself and he will have to wait. Crash now has to make the decision if it is worth it to "hassle" or if he should just go about his business.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Easter Through the Years...

Easter clothes have always been a struggle in our house...
 2009: The fancy Easter dinosaur

2010: The so very fancy Easter Star Wars sweat shirt.
But this year, there was a glimmer of something different.  Crash was with his brother and I out shopping for Easter clothes for his brother when all of a sudden Crash says...I want Easter clothes.

Really??  You want Easter clothes??  For real?  Ok.  But I tucked the receipt in the pants pockets...just in case.

So Easter morning rolls around.  Crash has been talking about his fancy clothes for days and is so excited to get dressed up just like his brother.  Then...he puts his pants on...

I knew it was coming.  I hadn't even cut the tags off the clothes yet.  I tell Crash it's ok and he can go put on something else.  But, that isn't good enough...Crash WANTS to wear his fancy clothes.  SO, thirty minutes later Crash is still rolling around on the floor crying.  Church will be starting soon.  We need to go.  I try to convince Crash to put jogging pants on under his pants, but that doesn't work either.  After 45 minutes I had had enough.  I pack the dress clothes up to take back to the store. 

All of a sudden, Crash grabs the clothes and put them on screaming.  TAKE THE TAGS OFF.  TAKE ALL THE TAGS OFF.  So we cut out all the tags and I inform Crash that the clothes can no longer go back to the store...they are his.  And guess what...

He didn't take them off all day!