I will only wear clothes that that choo-choos on them. In fact, if my outfit in the morning does not contain a some sort of choo-choo, I reject it and require a change of outfit or the addition of a choo-choo item before I will be satisfied. Sometimes monster trucks and other heavy machinery are acceptable, but only with prior approval.
One morning Mom tried to get away with dressing me in a red plaid button down. I was a bit distracts, so I didn’t notice the lack of choo-choo until she was finished. I started to move on to other activities, but first I looked down at my shirt. I marched right back to Mom with a very mad pout and demanded a CHOO-CHOO. She added my red choo-choo vest, and all was well with the world.
From Preston:
“Mommy, when can I go back to Dyken Pond again? I miss going to Dyken Pond.”
“Well, it gets too cold to go there, so it’s going to be a long time until we can go again – after your birthday, the baby, and Lukey’s birthday”
“Well, do you know my FAVORITE thing to do at Dyken Pond?”
“No, what is it?”
“FISHING, that’s my favorite. I love to go fishing.”
When John is not home things are a little more challenging around the house. Bedtime is typically manageable, although I’m always exhausted by the end of it: Baths, pajamas, books, milk, rocking, tucking in, more books, negotiating of you-tube time, etc. When there are two adults we can divide and conquer. Mornings are just as challenging if not more so, because there is more of a time constraint. Preston is pretty good in the morning, but he’s been really pushing back on getting himself dressed. I finally scolded him this morning and told him that when Daddy isn’t home he needs to be even more of a good listener and helper, and that I get angry when I have to ask him to get dressed 800 million times. And STILL, he says stuff like “I’m just going to get a drink of water and THEN get dressed. I’m thirsty.”
At that point I just give up and focus on me and Luke figuring I’ll have to deal with Preston again, but I’m wasting too much time and energy on arguing with him.
When Preston returned from getting his drink of water, I helped him get his clothes on (he actually cooperated), and then we all head downstairs for breakfast. But when we get down there he says “Look at all the stuff I did to help you, Mom!” He had: fed the cats and the fish, put out drinks for everyone for breakfast, packed his and Lukey’s lunches (minus the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, those are still a bit challenging), put the folding chair away that we got out for dinner last night, pushed in all the chairs around the table, and gotten his and Luke’s coats out of the closet.
All I really needed him to do was get dressed, but I was proud of him for being thoughtful.