Wail of a Time

Something weird started happening a few weeks ago.

I walk in the door after work, Loren squeals with delight, bebops into the kitchen and demands I feed her…right now.

Is she secretly calling me a pig and telling me a I spend too much time in the kitchen…or something? Ok, I know that’s not true. I know that 5 out of 7 mornings she wakes up, I change her diaper, and we go directly into the kitchen and make her breakfast.  However, LOREN, a mothers place is NOT in the kitchen, this is not 1954.

I also know that she snakes at 3pm and I get home just before 5pm. She can wait until dinner. Which is what I tell her.

Telling a toddler no we are not going to ___insert anything here_____, is pretty much a mood killer. Which means every freaking day I get home and 10 seconds later Loren has a melt down. Which I’m NEVER in the mood for because I’ve been at work all day and it’s really bumming me out because I’ve been missing her cute little toddler face all day – and she’s lying in the middle of the kitchen floor, arms flailing, and wailing like a a crazy baby.

She never does this on weekends. Weekends are full of horsey rides, reading books, blowing bubbles and cuddles.

I MUCH prefer walking in the door from work, Loren squeal

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