Tonight as I was bathing Boobers, Big D asked me if Smella could play Wii with him. A little voice inside my head screamed “Oh my god, are you out of your mind? Do NOT let the three-year-old play Wii!” but I quickly silenced it because I’m a moron. I figured she could try bowling because it’s not too hard. So she figured it out and even managed to get a strike in her first game and everyone was temporarily happy.
After I finished bathing the baby, reality set in. Boobers saw her playing it and decided that if she could do it, so could he. I’m sure he thought that since she’s only got a few inches on him, it wouldn’t be a big deal if he gave it a shot too. And I understand his logic, but I had to draw the line because he’s NINETEEN MONTHS OLD. So for the rest of the game, Boobers kept trying to wrench the controller out of Smella’s hand. This annoyed her greatly.
But what really annoyed her was when I told her that she had to stop playing because it was time for her bath. To clarify: by “really annoyed her” I mean “she screamed for a short period and then cried during the entire bath.” To make matters worse, the little voice inside my head got all cocky and started mocking me for being the world’s most clueless parent.
(I swear that this is the story of my life. It seems that no matter what I do and how good my intentions are, I will inevitably find a way to screw up any situation imaginable. I don’t listen to the little voice until its derisive cackling can no longer be ignored. I wish I was joking, but I’m not.)
Eventually, Smella quit crying and I briefly (very, very briefly) considered letting her play again just to smooth things over. Instead, I got her dressed, kissed the kids goodnight, and put them to bed. And everyone was temporarily happy again.