Decisions Made Ahead of Time

I learned, again, today, that it is not a good idea to leave a 2-year old alone for very long. OK, ever. Even when it seems like he is completely engrossed in his "Thomas the Tank Engine" episode. So engrossed that you think, "OK I'll just quickly go (fill in the blank here) in the other room and come back before he knows I am gone."

Those of you who read this blog are thinking, "you STILL haven't learned that lesson? Haven't you read your blog posts on this child?"

So I'm a slow learner.

Anyway, George was ENGROSSED in his "Thomas the Tank Engine" episode...well you get the idea.

I was in the other room, and heard, "Mom!!! Mommy! Mommy! Mom!!!!! Mommy!!! Mommy! Mommy!!!"

The calls did not sound like distress, so I called back "Son! What, son? Mommy is in here! Son!...," thinking he would come and find me.

All I got back was, "Mommy!!!! Mommy! Mommy!, etc., etc."

So I decided to see what the situation was. I walked around the corner to the kitchen just in time to see a chubby little hand let fly a bunch of white flakes that landed all over the counter, joining the other white flakes that were already all over the counter, the stools, and the floor.

Oatmeal. Dry Oatmeal.

He was throwing dry oatmeal, in what looked like an attempt to make a snow globe out of the kitchen. He had taken the lid off the oatmeal canister all by himself.

And he was extremely proud.

He wasn't calling me because of a problem. He was calling me to show off his discovery!

He saw me, and the enthusiasm ramped up--he went into his gibberish that he still uses when he is excited and needs to talk really fast. Every 5th or 6th word is intelligible. "Mommy! alskd jflsakjg oiu aerh wrjlxz cmvlkjs Mommy! ekwlul vnoie alhepo gks djk Mommy!"

He was telling me all about it as he continued to throw little handfuls of "snow" hither and yon; the cutest happy and proud look on his face, as if to say, "see this amazingly fun game I have discovered, Mom?"

Have you ever had a surreal moment when time slows down and you can see what is happening, but other thoughts or ideas run through your mind at the same time, so that in a split second you are basically processing two things at once? That is what happened here.

As I watched him, all I could think about were the Mormon Public Service Ads where the kids are playing in the mud with a hose and they accidentally spray the dad, or the kids accidentally start the car rolling down the hill backward into a ditch, or the kid spills spaghetti all over the floor. And every time, the PSA cuts to the parent who is standing there, obviously upset, but also considering whether running in and beating the children is really the best option...

Of course they don't ever choose that option (let me add here that neither would I, nor have I). What kind of PSA would that be?!?

If you have seen the PSAs I'm referring to, you will know where I am going with this...

I thought, "If I am to follow the example of those PSAs, this is where I run in, grab handfuls of oatmeal and start tossing it all over the room with my son, while flakes drift down in slow motion, feel-good music plays, and a guy comes in with the voice over: "Family: isn't it about TIME?" Cut to George and me, having the time of our lives in the messiest dry-oatmeal-snow-globe-kitchen ever. But we don't care! Happier faces have never been seen!"

Then I snapped back to reality and started laughing because I LOVE those PSAs, and this situation would have made a FABULOUS one at that.

I looked at my kitchen, and realized* that this was not going to be one of those times I join the child and make a huge mess. A huge mess had already been made, and we have a party here tonight. One that does not involve skating through dry oatmeal covering the wood floor. Though maybe that is an idea for the future.

Thankfully, the options in life aren't simply: 1) yell at the child or 2) make a mess with him.

I went for something in between: 3) Me with a smile and feigned excitement: "Son! Are you having fun? Wow--that is a giant mess you are making! Cool! How about you come in Mommy's room?" ("Where I can keep an eye on you..." I thought.)

Fortuitously, it turns out that Chewy likes to eat dry oatmeal,** so he has been helping with cleanup.
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*"realized?" As if I had to think about it for more than a nano-second, and then "come to the conclusion?" I didn't "realize" anything--I already knew the second I came around the corner that I would not be throwing oatmeal anywhere.

In fact, not throwing oatmeal through the air may have even been, for me, one of those "decisions made ahead of time." This is where a person makes a decision long before they ever get into a situation where making the decision may be tough. For example, deciding at age 8 that, "I will never do drugs." Or at age 23 that, "I will never eat octopus." (Though making the octopus decision during the "octopus-eating-opportunity" situation probably wouldn't have been hard--even with peer pressure.)

Yep--I'm pretty sure I made the decision long ago (in pre-mortal life, even) not to throw dry (or wet) oatmeal around any room. I feel in my bones that this is true. Because, when the moment arose, BAM! There I was with my decision: No oatmeal throwing. It is a very liberating feeling, knowing exactly what not to do.

This is why that surreal "vision of the Mormon PSAs" was so weird--I already knew what I planned to do, yet at the exact same moment, I was running those TV spots through my head, and people were throwing mud, and getting spaghetti wiped on them; I was throwing oatmeal, etc.

Hmmm...after seeing how much fun George was having, I may have to re-think my position on the oatmeal throwing.

(Don't worry. I still won't do drugs. Or eat octopus. I had to adjust my squid decision--I accidentally ate some in Korea. But the octopus decision I was able to hold completely firm on during that time.)




**We already know Chewy likes cooked oatmeal. He hangs out underneath George, in the hopes that George will throw some his way. Which George does. Every time. Because he loves to feed Chewy.

Too bad this also means that the dog is covered in stuck-on, hard-as-a-rock oatmeal until he gets to the groomer (the groomer loves this, btw). Because George, in addition to enjoying feeding Chewy, also likes to drop food on top of him--for sport. And Chewy doesn't mind. What's a little (or a lot) of oatmeal in the fur, when you have the chance at getting people food for breakfast?

I'll tell you though, it is not fun to pet Chewy after an "oatmeal for breakfast" day.


I couldn't find one of the ads I was talking about, but I LOVE LOVE LOVE this one: