Call It What You Want...

Can you imagine my surprise at hearing those words, just out of the blue? Perhaps you can imagine that I could imagine why I was hearing them.

A few moments earlier, Mark pointed out that some of his trucks weren't put away. This morning was not a good morning. Many things got put away when he went on a rude spree, disobeying the Mom, ignoring her, not taking turns with Adam, and, finally, kicking Adam in the face when he tried to use his brother to stand up. Like I said, many things got put away.

So when he pointed out that some of his trucks didn't get put away, I reminded him of why the others were. And that he needed to do things when Mommy tells him to.

So I checked a couple of blogs, went in to stir supper (Chef Jenny conquers Hamburger Helper), and came back, and, with angelic eyes and voice, he approached me.

"I'm sorry, Mommy."
"For what?" I asked.
"For being dis-'bedient," he replied.
"Thank you."
"I want the trucks back."

What? You mean that wasn't just a heart-felt apology brought on by true remorse and that's all?

"May I have the dump truck?"

"May I have the bucket truck?"

He gets Doggy back if he's nice the rest of the evening.