My parents have been overseas for 4 weeks. They are travelling and cruising (in a ship!) around Italy, Spain, France, London – with a whole bunch (like 16 of them) of their childhood friends! I’m terribly jealous!
Anyway, my parents have 7 chickens living in their backyard.
My parents also have lovely neighbours who feed those chickens on alternate days. While I pop over to feed them every other day.
I usually drag my 3 year old son along for an adventure of “Feeding The Chickens”. He is always excited about the chickens, but he also is utterly terrified of them.
Well, yesterday I was trying to collect an egg from the chicken coop. It was in the furthest corner of the shelter, covered under a pile of hay. I crept into the shadowy, smelly, hay-strewn, poo-covered, wooden cave.
I took two steps in. I was holding onto an inner frame of the hut with one hand. I carefully balanced on one foot, stooped down like a ballerina to scoop up the egg with my other hand. When Liam SLAMMED the door shut behind me! The latch flew up and caught into its lock.
OMG I WAS TRAPPED INSIDE THE CHICKEN COOP!!
I was standing on one foot, holding onto a wall with one hand and an egg in the other one hand. It was ridiculous!
I was like – LIAM WHY’D YOU SHUT THE DOOR?
He replied, “Because the chickens were trying to escape! You were letting them out!”
“No I wasn’t!! I was trying to get the egg!”
“The chickens were escaping!!!”
“THEY ARE NOT ESCAPING! Now say you’re sorry and open the door!!!!”
“NO! The chickens will come out if I open the door!!
Our pointless shouting went back and forth like that for a good 5 minutes. And he refused to unlock the door because he was mad at me.
And he was saying shit like, “WELL YOU’VE BEEN A NAUGHTY MUMMY, SO YOU SHOULD STAY IN THERE FOR 2 MINUTES!!!”
Oh boy was I mad! While standing on one foot!
OK I probably could have placed the egg carefully on the ground, dodged all the crazy chickens. Regained my balance, back up into the doorway and unlatched the door myself.
But I was so angry… (and I didn’t want to step on chicken poo) I wanted HIM to admit that he was wrong, for HIM to open the door and for ME to win on principle.
In the end, I realised that I was the one stuck in the cage.
So I had to suck it up and be all – “Oh sweetie pie, could you just let mummy out and you can have some ice cream?”
I lost. He won.
Welcome to my world of daily battles with a 3 year old.
(At least I do better with my husband. I always win.)