Today was Robbie’s first Thanksgiving with my family. It was actually my first Thanksgiving with my family as a married woman, even though Justin and I have been married for seven years on Sunday. Crazy, isn’t it?
The morning started with a little bad parenting. After all, would any holiday be complete without that? We went to Old Sturbridge Village. I packed stuff for Robbie. Plups. Wipes. A few toys. No extra pants. None at all. It was only when he got out of the stroller at the Meeting House that I realized he was soaked. And then it all came together. The “Pee-pee potty, Mama” in the last building we had entered. The strange damp spot on the floor (I actually asked myself, “Why would someone spill something and not clean it up here?”). Yeah. Turns out it was my kid. Peed all the way through his Plup. His pants. And his stroller.
Fortunately, Robbie wasn’t really bothered by this. Or maybe unfortunately, as it’s a little disturbing. But he managed to play in the kids area with wet pants (and dry Plups). He pretended to be a villager, making pretend juice for me in one of the tin mugs. Complete with fake wooden candle, which I discovered was supposed to be a straw only after he tried to drink his “juice” from it. Justin was mildly disappointed that he was not given any juice…
The classic parenting continued with a hot chocolate purchase at the old tavern. In a stupid move, I gave Robbie his cup with the instructions, “Don’t drink this until I tell you; it’s too hot. Just hold it.” That lasted for five seconds. Until Robbie tried to take a sip, dropped the cup, and scalded his hand. I suppose better his hand than his mouth…
He survived a few other bumps and bruises. Namely, falling down the stairs and bumping is head. Hitting his head at the table during Thanksgiving dinner, followed by a request for me to “fix it, please”. And face-planting in the parking lot after dinner. All-in-all, we’re going to call it a success because no skin was broken.
And now, as my child screams for all the things that are horrible in his life, I will close to enjoy some more quality time with my family. Namely, standing in the bathroom as my child pretends that he has to use the potty in a successful attempt to delay bedtime. Again.