Contrary to what YOU think...

Contrary children are merely one of life's joys....or so I've been told. Until, naturally, I realize that some of the contrariness came to him...er...genetically.

Take for example, today: he didn't want the smoothie to have just bananas and strawberries, but peaches and blueberries too - or, now that it's made? maybe not. Maybe, we were just better off with strawberries and bananas. While I grind my teeth, and swear, just inside my ears, where only I can hear it, I whip up another one, just like he wants. Because, afterall, how am I supposed to get my tiara back?

(please hold, another waffle needs to be made...if you want music, hum to yourself)

This is all before we even contemplate the decisions we must make that are fraught with peril...what goes in the lunchbox, which blanket must we have for naptime...which always includes about ten minutes (we don't have, of course) to debate the merits of said items.

While pondering this, I ordered a snotty coffee, from starbucks, as it's right next to work. A Grande Carmel Latte, with skim, and whipped cream. When it arrives, with the milk overheated (read: scalded and smelled funny) sans whipped cream. Did she not hear how I ordered it? Can she not see that I need it to have skim milk, heated to 160 degrees, not 180, with the damn whipped cream? isn't that what I said?

And it hit me, like the proverbial ton of bricks -

Hunter really is his mother's child. He likes things how he likes 'em, and that's how he want 'em.

Come to think of it?

I'm good with that.

Now. I'm off, to heat up the syrup for the waffles we're having for dinner.

Someone likes to have it warm. With just a hint of butter on the waffles.

(in case you care? it's not me)