The curse of the fourth child.

So yesterday (also known as the day Little J left his lunch box in the car for the ninth time)--I decided there OBVIOUSLY needs to be a consequence for being careless.  It's also important to note, as stated in yesterday's post, that we were looking at our "perfect" house, and I was very ill-prepared to deal with the emotions of lunchbox shenanigans at 8:07 a.m.


And that is when I declared that Little J was going to lose his t.v. privileges for the evening.  Because I am noticing a pattern, and a general lack of concern regarding me having to go all the way back home, put on a bra and pants that are NOT pink and polka dotted, and drive up to school in my running costume (to look as if there is purpose to my hot, disheveled mess).   He wasn't so concerned about it at the time, but I KNEW we were headed for nuclear annihilation at some point.

Don't feel bad for Little J.  Feel bad for the Pioneers--they NEVER had television, and I'm sure (after this ordeal) that they bawled their little, wagon-covered eyes out for entire lifetimes.  I tried to reason with him using this argument; he was not so moved.  Of all my kids, Little J is most likely to develop a seizure disorder if not allowed access to a television or a Wii.  He's everything we SWORE our kids would not stand for!  OUR kids were going to solve Rubiks cubes or create entire screenplays while using their imaginations in the back yard, or teach themselves to swim without water.  They were certainly NOT going to play video games!


Poor fourth child.  Mommy must have given up on feeding you organically and nurturing your intellectual well-being many moons ago.