As I was making breakfast this morning, I heard J start to wake up and move around. Because I love hearing the first thing that comes to his mind in the morning, I pressed my ear to the door for a listen.
"Mommy, mommy!" he said. (A proud smile comes to my face.)
"Mommy SPIT OUT!" (I'm so busted!)
You know when your child recalls the traumatic experience very first thing in the morning, you are in trouble. And you know what? I DID spit out. I'm not proud of it but I would do it again.
Last week on our final day of family freedom (meaning Joseph's CPA study materials hadn't arrived yet), we decided we wanted to spend the warm weather outdoors in nature. Joseph found an easy hike in the Lake Mead area and he assured me it would only be two hours round-trip.
We packed up the car and started driving towards the lake. After singing I Like Trucks on repeat,(click on the link and play a sample of the song to adequately appreciate our torture) we finally arrived at the trail head where I laughed as Joseph pointed out the mountain we could supposedly summit in an hour.
We decided instead to hike a smaller, nearby
We sat down with a snack to enjoy the view. Joseph found a bag of trail mix in his pack from the last time we went hiking and he passed it around. The boys didn't seem to mind the staleness, but after one bite into a piece of pineapple I turned to the side and spit it on the ground.
When I looked up, I saw J watching me with wide eyes. He ran over to where I was sitting and stared at the ground with his mouth open. On his way over to me I put my shoe over the spit out pineapple but he knew it was there. He looked up at me with his mouth still open. "Mommy SPIT OUT!" With a look of shock and almost unbelief.
J knew that he wasn't supposed to spit out his food and it was absolutely unfathomable that Mommy (HIS MOMMY) was capable of such a thing. I apologized to him of course, saying that it won't happen again and it isn't okay to spit out our food.
A week and a half later and he still hasn't forgotten or forgiven me.