Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Mommy-a!

Mommy-a!

Mommy-a!

Mommy-a!

John yells this fifty thousand times a day.

When he needs a drink.

When he needs a hug.

When he's hurt.

When he needs his bum wiped.

When he wants to tell me he loves me.

When he's dropped a toy.

When he's  got a hangnail.

When he wants me smile.

Or frown.

Do you get the picture?

And only I can solve the problem, whatever the problem or question or request is.

Not Daddy.

Never Daddy. Not right now.

Not for the past two weeks or so. And it's grating on my last nerve.

So the other night as we were getting ready for bed and my husband was helping, John started in.

Mommy-a!

Mommy-a!

Only my husband was dressing him and is perfectly capable of doing this without my help or input.

John kept yelling for me.

My husband kept saying, "What do you want? I'm right here. Tell me."

John kept yelling.

I was in the kids bathroom and if I left John would totally see me. So I hid behind the door.

For about four minutes. Which doesn't seem long now, but was an eternity at the time.

My husband dressed John while John yelled for me and my husband insisted that he could help if only John would tell him what he wanted.

No such luck.

Finally John was dressed and had stopped yelling for me. He walked out into the hallway.

I left the bathroom.

He saw me.

"Mommy-a! I need to ask you something!"

"John! Ask Daddy. He can help you."

"Will Sarah and I be in the same room at the Y tomorrow?"

Oh.

Yeah. I guess only I can answer that one.

So I untill John is through this stage I suppose I just keep answering him, knowing that it's only a stage and it too shall pass.