We don’t ever even have J.U.I.C.E. around for The Boy to demand (unless I’ve just served a tour as library Snack Mom) and he’s never really been that picky about plain ole’ water. So as you might imagine, I was completely caught off guard by yesterday’s head cold induced juice rage.
In response to the colossal temper tantrum and my own anxieties about sick kid fluid levels, I found myself frantically foraging through the depths of the refrigerator for a lonely juice box or anything to stop the shrieking. Finally, I was left with no other option but to quell the rage with what we seem to always have on hand, Cosmopolitan cocktail mix. And yes, I am aware that this alone puts me in the running for the coveted Mother Of The Year Award.
Naturally Ian was horrified when I filled him in, leaving Augustine with at least one decent parent.
Monsieur Juice Lips, clearly feeling fine.
I realize this reveals more embarrassing information about myself than I might have originally intended, but it’s true. I’m often unprepared and can have less than exacting standards (ever present cosmo mix- case in point.) and tonight I’m thinking I shouldn’t really try too hard to get away with pretending otherwise.