the first rule about block club . . .

I got back from my conference late last night, and I must brag on my husband.  Jafta and I came home to a spotless house, and three bathed and peacefully sleeping children.  I don't know what happened while I was gone (I'm guessing that bath before my arrival was the only one of the weekend), but from all outward appearances, Mark and the kids had a great time in my absence.  
There were really only two dire consequences from my time away:

1. Mark allowed a Veggie Tales CD to be played in the car.
2. Mark bought Kembe a real golf club.

Let me explain.  

First, I have worked hard over the past five years strategizing through every parenting decision, with the knowledge that setting precedence for certain things only means certain things will ALWAYS BE.  For example, sure, it's a little stodgy that my kids have never had gum, or have never eaten a meal in front of the tv, or peed in the backyard.  But I know that if you slip just a little on such things and allow it once, these children will turn on you and ask for this special treatment all the livelong day.  This is why I have never . . . NEVER . . . played children's music in the car.  Or ever, really.  I abhor children's music.  I don't think they even need to know the genre exists.  So wouldn't you know, while I'm gone Mark takes the kids to Chick-Fil-A where they get a Veggie Tales CD, which he casually pops into the car on the way home.  Now I ask you, what do you think I listened to all day today? 
    a) Veggie Tales
    b) the sound of children incessantly nagging me to listen to Veggie Tales

(The answer: It doesn't matter.  EQUALLY ANNOYING).

Now, to the golf clubs.  Mark also has a certain obsession with buying sports equipment for the kids.  Despite having a large collection of golf clubs in various sizes, Mark became concerned that Kembe is a lefty and was learning to swing with a right-handed club.  I know you are reading this right now and thinking about the gravity of a three-year-old forming a crippling golf swing in his formative years.  So clearly, the only option for Mark was to take him to Sports Chalet and buy a special left-handed golf club made of forged steel.  Which Jafta got a mouthful of this afternoon in the backyard, when he was standing behind Kembe while he practiced with his new toy.

Let me say this.  A couple inches too high, and Jafta's eye would be black.  A couple of inches to the right, and Jafta would be missing some teeth.  Luckily, his cheek caught the hit, but now his mouth is swollen beyond recognition.  He has asked all day for me to put a band-aid on the inside of his mouth.  But I'm not gonna do it.  Because then he would always think he could have a band-aid on the inside of his mouth.

I sustained some injures in the backyard myself today, where I went to work on assembling a set of cardboard blocks I bought the kids.  I remember playing with these cardboard blocks at my own preschool, and I thought that a set in our home might encourage the kids to build a fort with something other than the sofa cushions.  And besides, look how happily this kids are playing in the promotional shot:
I mean, that little girl is HUGGING the block.  Surely this will buy me hours of quiet play, no?

No.

First of all, it bought me hours of assembling pieces of orgami-detailed cardboard with razor-sharp edges.  Each block took about an hour to assemble.  I'm not exaggerating.  (Yes I am).  But seriously, it was annoying and my hands are covered it cardboard papercuts.  Which could kill you, FYI.  

And the kids?  Once they took possesion of the blocks, it looked less like the picture above and more like this:


(By the way, I was gonna put a picture of three people wrestling . . . because there was also a good bit of that once they had access to the cardboard blocks of doom.  But from experience, let me warn you.  It's best not to search for images of  "wrestling threesome".  Because Google is thinking of something else).

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