We have discovered in the last few days that ice cream is Jordan’s drug. I am telling you, trying to keep that kid out of the freezer is like telling a junkie he can’t have his “special herbal brownies.” Seriously, if we forget to put the child lock on the refrigerator/freezer, we end up with something that looks kind of like a campground after a bear has ransacked it.
He got one taste of the icy-cold goodness, and that boy was hooked. If he can’t sneak his way into the freezer, he just stands in front of it doing a sort of moan/whine while rocking back and forth and pointing at the appliance whose perimeter he would like to breach. No frozen dairy (or non-dairy, for that matter) product is safe from his clutches. If it is frozen, he will eat it. If he can get hold of two or three popsicles, he will eat them all.
Anyway, last night, I was faced with a dilemma. Here’s what happened.
Jadon had gone outside and was playing in the back yard as Jason grilled burgers for dinner. Well after the burgers were cooked, Jadon was content to roll in his man-made mud pit like a pig rooting for slop, and he really just did not want to come in for dinner. Being one of the first GORGEOUS days we’ve had in a while, we didn’t see the harm. He thought he was really being sneaky by turning on the hose and hiding it as he poured water on his mini dirt pile. We knew exactly what he was doing, but it was just too darn funny to let on, so we let him continue his charade of ‘hiding’ the running water from us.
When it was finally time to come in, Jason and I both stepped out onto the back step, leaving Jordan at the table 2 feet from us, munching contentedly on his burger. (He’s definitely not our outside kid, so he was perfectly happy to come in when dinner was ready.)
It took both of us to corner the human pigpen and get him wrangled to the back door, where we quickly stripped him of all his muddy clothes, except for the really sad looking Pull-Up that had soaked up its fair share of muddy water, too. (Ok, I’m hoping really, really hard that it was just muddy water.)
And here’s where it all fell apart. See, if we hadn’t both been involved in the hosing-down of toddler number 1, then we would surely have noticed the havoc that toddler number 2 was wreaking. It took Jordan all of 1.2 seconds to sprint from the dining room table to the freezer (that SOMEONE had left unlocked) and retrieve a handful of popsicles, and before we even knew what had hit us, he had the paper peeled halfway off of all of them and was frantically trying to ingest them before he got caught. Can anyone say ‘brain freeze’?
At that point, my superior mothering skills took over, and I had mere moments in which to decide the fate of the popsicles. Here’s the deal. He was going to be one very ticked off toddler if I took all those popsicles away from him, so in that instant, I decided that it would be much, much better to just let him have them. Weighing possible tooth decay against the ungodly fit we would likely be subject to if I took them away, it took me about one tenth of a giga-second (I made that up…but it’s fast. Really fast.) to decide that I would rather face the wrath of our family dentist than that of an angry three-year-old.
So, take that, you stupid ol’ food pyramid! Ha! And besides, how bad could three popsicles really be? (Don’t answer that, Carl.) The important thing is that the muddy kid got cleaned off, the popsicle thief was happy, and mom and dad did not have ruptured eardrums due to the shrill screaming of a mad three-year-old. And they all lived happily ever after.