The Rabbit and two other 4-year-old friends are sitting in princess dresses watching Strawberry Shortcake in what is a momentary break in the most chaotic tea party afternoon ever. In just 90 minutes they have managed to:
1. Have potty breaks once (yes, I am watching them...)
2. Argue twice over who got to wear the Tinkerbell shoes. (The shoes got a time out).
3. Eat 3 pink petit fours with butterflies on them.
4. Spill "tea" on the floor 4 times.
5. Get 5 minutes to play the piano.
6. Cry 6 times.
7. Make me get up from my desk 7 times to negotiate an argument.
8. Tell each other "You're not my friend" 8 times.
9. Give me 9 shots from the Rabbit's doctor kit.
10. Make me look at the clock 10 times and wonder where their mommies were.
I have to say, I love that The Rabbit has her friends over. I just wish they could behave maturely and calmly. Is that asking too much from sugar addled, nap-deprived 4-year-olds? I think not.
1. Have potty breaks once (yes, I am watching them...)
2. Argue twice over who got to wear the Tinkerbell shoes. (The shoes got a time out).
3. Eat 3 pink petit fours with butterflies on them.
4. Spill "tea" on the floor 4 times.
5. Get 5 minutes to play the piano.
6. Cry 6 times.
7. Make me get up from my desk 7 times to negotiate an argument.
8. Tell each other "You're not my friend" 8 times.
9. Give me 9 shots from the Rabbit's doctor kit.
10. Make me look at the clock 10 times and wonder where their mommies were.
I have to say, I love that The Rabbit has her friends over. I just wish they could behave maturely and calmly. Is that asking too much from sugar addled, nap-deprived 4-year-olds? I think not.
Comments
And what is it about torturing parents with doctor kits? Mine are especially fond of sticking their primary-coloured chunky-plastic syringe in my butt, as hard as possible.