cookie ratings

So a friend of Skywalker's and mine brought by a HUGE bag of chocolate chip cookies last night. We ate several, distributed several to the kids, and now it's sitting on my fridge, and also occupying a corner of my mind.

This morning, I told all the kids they had to finish breakfast before they got their dresses on. Because breakfast was cold cereal, something we have very rarely and is considered a treat, the kids all seemed to have no problem. THey downed their cereal within five minutes. All except MayMay. She's a steady eater, probably my most prolific eater, but she attacks everything with the same measured consideration. She just likes food, ANY food, an feels no need to inhale treats when they're to be enjoyed.

Anyway, the kids all got up and raced up the stairs. MayMay stared after them, then looked at the half-empty bowl in front of her.

"Mom," she said, "I can't finish."

Right. Miss 3-full-bowls-of-oatmeal-every-morning.

"Finish, then you can go upstairs with your sisters and put your dress on."

MayMay looked at me consideringly, then her face crumpled. Whimper, whimper.

I go in my room and shut the door.

Whimper whimper.

I turn on a clip from my friends' blog, it's a funny song by Flight of the Conchords. I chuckle and do my best to keep my blood pressure from rising as I hear footsteps approach my door.

Whimper Whimper, face mooshed up against the slats of the door that seperates my bedroom from the living room. Whimpers getting louder, a little bit of banging on the door.

Me: "Go eat your cereal MayMay, and stop crying because that's a tantrum and tantrum girls go on the time-out bench."

MayMay: Growl-Wail, jumping up and down.

Me: OK! Well I guess you made your choice. (Come out of room. Heft 5-year-old over my shoulder. Chug up the stairs--yes, my duedate is in five days--and set her on the bench. Start to go down the stairs.)

MayMay: I don't WAAAAANT to SIDOWN!!

I look and she's standing next to the time-out bench.

Me: Whoops! Guess it's your room then. Bella, Loli, out... MayMay's going to spend her time out in there.

MayMay: NONONONONO!!! (Yelling, jumping, screaming.)

I put MayMay in the room and shut the door. The handle doesn't work from the inside so she can't get out until I let her out (which has been a very convenient development for me and discipline.) I go down the stairs to to the tune of soulfoul top-of-lungs-screaming. I walk into the kitchen and consider the brown paper bag on top of the fridge.

"I think that was a two-cookie tantrum," I say to myself.

Now that I've blogged about it, I think I might go let her out.