{reallife} in which he rides with pedals and scares little old ladies

I was driven to my mint chocolate chip ice cream tonight. Hiding out by the freezer in the kitchen while he brushes their teeth in the bedroom. Spoon in the bucket...just one more bite...

And then Ezra comes running out looking for his water bottle.

AHEM. *hides spoon and bucket behind her*

It was just one of those days. Days when childhood sillies make mama want to pull out her hair. You know what? She's not going to laugh when you say that...try it on somebody else.

I had to run to Walmart for nighttime diapers and sugar and a few other things. It was supposed to be a very quick in-and-out visit. But the sillies came along, of course. And one shopping cart with kid's seats and two sillies makes for a mess on wheels. We got some dirty looks.

On these trips, I avoid eye contact with other shoppers as much as possible.

Dear Little Old Lady,

I'm so sorry my three year old nearly ran over you with a cart today. I promise you I have raised my sons with better manners than that and whatever demon possesses them to run wild and push and then let go of carts and make loud motor noises in stores did not get permission from me! Your frightened and then disdainful looks embarrass and sadden me. I really am trying to make them into little angels. It's a big job. You must have forgotten. Here, do you want to sit down a minute and let me tell you what it's like having little boys? Ah, you're better off not knowing. Ignorance is bliss. But please don't look at me like that.

The Mother Who Tries Really Really Hard

I have started complementing myself in front of my husband and kids. You know, like "you have such a great mommy...don't you love it that she makes such yummy food? and takes you to the park to play with friends? and kisses your owies? and...yep, you've got such a GREAT mama..."

Somebody's gotta do it. Well, now it sounds kinda silly.

And then tonight I was saying something to my husband about what a great prize he got when he married me and he replies "yep, you're dad is a real nice guy". King of comebacks. He got that one out in less than a minute. Incredible. 

There's something happy and sad and amazing and goose-pimpley about your three-year-old being able to ride a pedal bike without training wheels all by himself.

I watch him pedal away down the street, all independent-like and all of a sudden my baby is grown and off he goes into the rest of his life.

Then he wobbles, loses balance and falls, crying and calling for mama.

And all is right with the world once more.

We had playtime outside at the park this morning. Playground time and nature exploration with friends. The best times.

So. To all the hapless elderly who happen to be at the store when we are -- I apologize.
My children are much happier and well-behaved at the park, maybe you should join us sometime?
Or maybe you'd like to chase my new-pedal-biker as he rides off into the sunset?
Better yet -- how bout a little chocolate mixed with complements? That never hurt no-one.