Chicken pox are still flaring here, so just time for a quickie.
I’m trying to find something fun for lunch, and I’m excited to serve it to the kids. (Hot dogs wrapped in refrigerated crescent rolls. Not too extraordinary, but not pb&j for once!)
Two minutes before they’re due out of the oven, Jake pipes up, “I want a snack.”
“No. It’s almost lunchtime, and I have a fun lunch for you. No snack.”
(very whiny) “I want a snack.”
“Fine. Call it a snack. You’re having a snack for lunch.”
He doesn’t care what it is we’re having. If I call it a snack, he’s happy. And I’m done hearing the whining (for at least a minute or so).
This helps me to remember to choose my battles wisely, because I certainly don’t have the energy, or sanity, for them all!
