“No eating in the living room.”
This is not just a rule… it is a life truth.
Like sunsets and sunrises.
Like Pumpkin Spice lattes in the Fall.
I say it again… NO EATING IN THE FRICKIN’ LIVING ROOM.
Yet… THE CHILDREN ARE ALWAYS EATING IN THE DOG-GONE LIVING ROOM.
*stomps*
I honestly don’t know how it happens. My daughters are ninjas of eating in the living room. Except, they leave evidence of said eating in the living room EVEH.RY.WHERE.
I turn around. Orange finger tips are the first give-away. As I look further, trace evidence is everywhere… from crumbs on faces and floor and monitor surface… to FULL-FREAKING-ON PLASTIC WRAPPERS OF CHEESE STICKS.
THIS IS A HOME NOT A DUMP.
There was a day recently where I cracked. First I threatened that if I ever found evidence of eating in the living room again… NO FOOD FOR THE REST OF THE DAY!!!
The threat was bogus. We all knew I would never do it. So I talked myself down from The Ledge of Irrational Threats and did something else… I made the girls write sentences.
She threw away her first five sentences because, “They were messy.”
*blink blink*
I can’t even understand my children. It’s almost like my plan backfired and it became a writing craft or something.
And then Olivia…
*blink blink blink*
And then she proceeded to dot every.single. “i”… with a heart.
When I asked why she took the time to dot every “i” with a heart she said, “I just can’t help it.”
Even in their disobedience, and even though I love them to the tippy-top of all the love there has ever been or ever will be… they endear me more.
Every time.
This happened a few weeks ago. Was this strategy effective??? It seems this did the trick. (!!!)
For now. Never say never-ever-again, but now at least the girls are running a tight ship… especially as it applies to big brother. He missed out on the fun of that day, but the girls are definitely making sure he tows the line as well.
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