
By messing with my profile, I've now unknowing become a citizen of Albania and been put on some watch-list somewhere.
HEY!! How the hell did I get to be 103 years old?
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...uncreative...
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What Ever Happened To My Lunchbox
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My father use to say, “I’m counting to three,” and our response would be to start doing what we were suppose to be doing, to stop doing what we weren’t suppose to be doing, or cry because we didn’t know what to (not) do. It was an easy system. Eventually he’d just have to yell, “One!” and we’d stop, start, or cry.
My older brother has his own system. His kids figured out that with the counting to three, they didn’t have to start behaving until he passed two. So now he just counts to random number and they have to take their chances on when he’s going to stop.
I tried this system to begin with, but soon discovered the random number was always one as I frequently announced, “Today’s random number is one, and I’ve just reached it!” But now I’ve discovered something better – boredom. I now say, “Daddy is counting to three and by the time he reaches three you’d better ___________ (fill in the appropriated demand) or Daddy will ______ (fill in the appropriate punishment).” My kids have gotten so sick of hearing the pre-counting lecture/ramble that they (at least sometimes) stop, start, or cry the minute I say, “Daddy is counting. . .”
For those of you that don't know what the oat meal rebellion is, check out the link first.
Not much of a response, but a confession. Last night I made meatloaf. I didn't have any crackers or bread crumbs and needed something. It was just sitting there in the pantry, beckoning to me in feigned innocence - use me. I couldn't resist. It looked sort of like cracker crumbs or bread crumbs. It had the same dry consistency. So, I did it, I put oatmeal flakes into the meatloaf. Years from now, my children will speak of this incident. I'll do my best to deny it.