The children are home, yes, and boy are their arms tired. (Ba dum bump!) Between the time change, the vacation, and the hellish trip back, they are exhausted beyond all reason. Waking them up yesterday morning for school made me feel like a card-carrying sadist, and yesterday afternoon as first one and then the other melted down while we were out, they took turns pulling themselves together out in the car while I watched from twenty feet away. Chickadee took that opportunity to read a few pages of a book and then slink back over to me and apologize; Monkey clambered into his seat and promptly FELL ASLEEP in broad daylight.
It is the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.
Of course, poor Monkey got an extra helping of torture, because despite his last tragic trip to the orthodontist he was all excited to go BACK again yesterday!
Oh, Monkey. Don’t EVER be excited to go to the orthodontist, baby.
Yes, yesterday was D-Day. They even CALL it “DELIVERY” there at the ortho, because when you call it “installation of operation lockjaw” it’s harder to fit on one of those cute little labels they stick on the chart.
So I picked him up around lunchtime and let him eat his lunch in the car on the way to the office. He munched happily, failing to realize that it might be the last solid meal he would have for a week. Actually, I might not have realized that, either. But do you know what they did to my baby? They filled his mouth up with metal!
Last night he tried to eat some macaroni and it kept getting stuck between the palate expander and the roof of his mouth, until he finally gave up in tears. He ended up having a bowl of yogurt for dinner.
This morning he tried to chew up his vitamin and declared that chewing anything at all hurt. He ended up having a bowl of yogurt for breakfast.
While he sat slumped at the kitchen table, I packed him some juice, a cup of applesauce, an overripe banana, and a Nutella sandwich for lunch—knowing full well that he’s not going to eat anything but the applesauce.
He was SO pitiful before they left (“Whatsamatter, honey?” “My TEETH HURT and I can’t EAT ANYTHING!!”) that I gave him some Motrin and a promise that we’d have ice cream after school. Poor kid. This is the price of beauty! And, um, not growing up with two rows of teeth crammed into your jaw!
Anyway, what was NOT pitiful was that yesterday (before dinner) he was still sort of excited about the whole thing. I think the fact that he could barely talk was cracking him up. And while he was still kind of amused by the adventure, I decided to take a little video:
Go ahead… tell me YOU wouldn’t feed that kid ice cream for breakfast, lunch and dinner. And maybe dunk him in it and lick it off, too.