When Eleanor woke up she couldn’t get the right amount of toilet paper because the roll was too slippery and Oliver wanted to wear his monster pajamas to school and Eleanor got toothpaste on her favorite purple fairy costume with the shiny sparkly ruffles and I could tell it was going to be a terrible horrible no good very bad day.
At breakfast Oliver wanted milk in his Cheerios but he didn’t want them to get wet and Eleanor said her Toast R Cake was too crunchy. Martha didn’t get her milk the minute she saw me pull it out of the fridge. I think I’ll move to Jamaica.
On the way to school, Eleanor sat in the wrong carseat and didn’t make her legs into a bridge for Oliver to climb under. I wouldn’t let Oliver wear his backpack in his carseat. I said it wouldn’t fit. He said, “BACKPACK!” I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
During preschool drop-off, Oliver wanted to stay out in the hall playing with the plastic hair salon and wouldn’t go into his classroom. Eleanor wanted “snack” from Oliver’s teachers. Martha wanted a backpack. I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, very bad day.
On the way home from school, Oliver wanted to drive the minivan. Martha started crying when I wouldn’t give her a sip of my Diet Coke and Eleanor wouldn’t leave the house without her bathing suit on. Oliver wanted to stay in the car when we got home.
For lunch, I wouldn’t let Oliver finish ALL of his Easter candy. Eleanor’s ‘warm’ chocolate was too hot and her string cheese wasn’t stringing right. Frank kept eating the food that Martha dropped in his mouth. It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
I closed Oliver’s shades for his nap and made him get into his bed. Eleanor wanted to take her bowl of applesauce into her bedroom during quiet time and Frank wanted to be inside and outside at the same time. Eleanor’s skirt didn’t twirl high enough and Oliver couldn’t make all of his trains stick together. Next week, I said, I’m going to Jamaica.
Martha needed to crawl down the stairs, Oliver wanted to jump down the stairs and Eleanor asked to have dinner on the stairs. The macaroni and cheese was too yellow and Eleanor didn’t get a pink bowl. There weren’t any bananas and I wouldn’t let Oliver put his broccoli into his toy car. Martha didn’t get her milk fast enough. Oliver’s spoon didn’t work right. Martha wasn’t hugging Eleanor back.
The bubble bath wasn’t bubbly enough and Martha was sitting at the wrong end. Oliver didn’t get the blue boat and Eleanor took the ‘best’ bath toy. Oliver got cold when he was sitting in the bath after the water had drained out and Eleanor didn’t like the way the toothpaste tasted. We were having a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day, I told everyone.
At bedtime, both Eleanor and Oliver wanted to sit on my right leg during story time and Eleanor’s fuzzy nightgown was in the laundry. Oliver wanted to finish his Easter candy and wear his boots to bed. Martha wanted to chew on her shoes in her crib. It had been a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day. I googled it and apparently some days are like that. Even in Jamaica.
Don't miss a post! Sign up for email or RSS updates!