Thursday, September 9, 2010
Tonight, I taped a chicken nugget box together.
Running a low grade fever and feeling pretty uggie, I sat with my head in hand as J-man munched on chicken nuggets. He ripped the nugget box top, handed me the ripped piece, and pushed my hand (with ripped piece) away. I assumed he meant for me to throw it in the trash behind me, which I did.
The ensuing meltdown clearly indicated that I had misinterpreted his intention. Recovering the ripped portion of the chicken nugget box from the trash, I asked him "What??". He pushed my hand again, this time toward the junk drawer. Where the tape is.
"Fix it?" I asked.
"Fe it?" he answered.
I showed him the tape. He half-nodded.
I said "Tape?"
He echoed "Ta pt"
So I taped his nugget box. Poorly, apparently, because he took the ripped portion back off, handed it to me, and said "Ta pt" with a vigorous, disgusted whine.
So I taped it well.
I taped a chicken nugget box back together.
Yep, never read anything about that in those child-rearing books.