The last Ho-Ho, Oh, No!

There it was.  Sitting on the top shelf of the pantry, glistening in the fluorescent kitchen light; the last ho-ho.  Oh what I would do for a ho-ho… but just as quickly as my delight came over me, it turned into fear.  Fear because there was only one ho-ho left.  (I know what you’re thinking, don’t they come in a 2-pack?  Well, yes, they do, but breaking up a pair is unthinkable.  It would be like breaking up Bert and Ernie or Peter Pan and Tinkerbell- Man, I watch a lot of cartoons.)

Chase had been asking all morning to go outside and this seemed to be the perfect opportunity.  I shoved the ho-ho up my sleeve as we headed outside, trying to cover the crinkling of the package with a loud cough as the plastic wrapper slid from side to side in my sleeve.  I waited a minute or so until Chase was playing joyfully in his sandbox to open the wrapper.  I knew I had to wait for the perfect opportunity.  Luckily, Chase had a bucket on his head so he didn't hear me fumble with the wrapper.  Then, quickly, I shoved the ho-hos (yes both of them) into my mouth.  I think I may have unhinged my jaw-similar to a snake eating a rat.  But I didn't care, I needed to eat the ho-hos and I needed them bad. 

But I made one mistake; one big mistake.  I laid the wrapper on the ground next to my lawn chair.  It didn't take long for my tiny tot to recognize the package lying lifeless on the grass.  He asked me for a ho-ho and I had to be honest (mainly because my breath still smelled like sweet, sweet chocolate and delicious filling).  I sat him down and filled him in on the situation, “Honey, Mommy ate the last ho-ho.”  Chase let out a shriek as if I had just stabbed him in the heart.  Then he did the only rational thing he could think of- he kicked me.  I understood his need for revenge.   But being the only parental figure in sight, I figured I needed to do some parenting.  I told him that it is naughty to kick mommy and if he did it again he would have a timeout. 

So, he did what toddlers do best- he kicked me in the shin again (luckily for me he was wearing his crocs that are a thick fluffy plastic, so it hardly hurt.  But I tell you, my child kicks like a bull so I’m lucky my pale, pale skin didn't bruise like a peach).  But, I was forced to give him a timeout.  This timeout probably won the record for the longest, most grueling timeout in history.  Once Chase finally sat down in the timeout chair, he threw his crocs at me and he proceeded to slither underneath the arms of the chair (I guess Chase and I both have snake like qualities). 

This is the second Chase realized Mommy ate the last Ho-Ho. 

Finally, after about 15 minutes, and many neighbors peering out their windows to make sure I wasn't abusing my child, Chase finally sucked it up and said sorry.  When I picked him up out of the timeout chair he growled in my ear, “I want to throw a ball at you.” 

I guess do I have to give him props for communicating his feelings and not following through on his naughty thoughts- all of the time.