C is for Coyly Threatening Your Mother

Today the kids and I finally got around to making the cutout cookies I'd planned on baking before I got sick a couple of weeks ago. It was rainy here today, so it was the perfect thing to keep the kids occupied. Eva and I made the dough this morning while Daniel was playing at a friend's house, then after lunch Daniel and I rolled out and cut out all the cookies while Eva napped. By the time Kyle got home from school we'd just finished baking and we all frosted them together (This really is an all-day thing; this recipe makes about 12 dozen cutout cookies. If they weren't amazingly delicious we'd never make them). Everybody had fun with the sprinkles, and when we were done we each had one cookie. Happy day, right?

Before we'd even eaten our "one cookie each," Daniel started working on me about being allowed a second one after dinner. I put him off with the classic parental "We'll see...," but really I knew I'd end up giving him one. After all, he's a four-year-old who spent the entire afternoon focused on this project; I thought he kind of deserved a second. So eventually we settled on one extra cookie to anyone who ate a good dinner. I should have seen it coming, what with all the dough-eating, the licking of dripped frosting, the sampling of sprinkles. Nobody ate dinner. Well, nobody under the age of 30, anyway.

I made a meal the kids like, we gave lots of warnings, we encouraged and cajoled and gave them way past the end of the meal until I'd cleaned up the kitchen, but still no dice. So we calmly announced there were no cookies and started bath time. And you would think these kids had never seen a consequence before in their lives. Eva spent her first 30 minutes in bed tonight wailing "YES COOOOKIEEEE!," while Daniel came to the kitchen to "help" me put the cookies into containers to be given away or frozen. Our conversation went something like this:

"You know, I am feeling very angry to you right now."
"Oh yeah, Bud?"
"Yeah. You know just now when I asked you for a cookie for dessert and you said 'NO!!' (scrunching his face and yelling wickedly); that made me really mad. Do you REALLY want me to be angry to you?"
"Well, actually I was willing to give you a cookie if you ate your dinner. You're the one who decided not to eat. Maybe you should be angry with yourself."

Silence, thinking... Now very calmly, in a kind of menacing tone...

"You know, tomorrow, we will go somewhere and I will see someone and I will tell them that you did not give me ANY dessert, and they will say 'YOUR MOMMY DID NOT GIVE YOU ANY DESSERT?!?!,' and I will say, "Yes."

End of conversation.

Well, let's hope we don't run into any law enforcement officers or DFS workers tomorrow. Maybe they'll let me off the hook if I give them a cookie. :)