The last 6 work days for me have been, well, trying. Although I slept in my own bed every night, I didn't see the girls in the morning at all last week, as I left for work before they woke up.
Which means that Dale was in charge of the morning get-ready-for-school chaos.
I've written before about it not taking long for Ivie to learn that Dale is more easily swayed from our routine of eating a fruit cup for breakfast before moving on to the more carb-heavy-and-less-healthy items, like Pop-Tarts (as a side note, while looking for the blog post to link above, I did a blog word search for "pop-tart". You don't even want to know how many of my posts include that word. It's unacceptable, really.). And while Dale and I never specifically discussed it last week, each time I talked to him and asked him how the girls had been, he regularly answered "They were great! Angels!". So I surmised that he must have been giving in to some of their demands.
Fast-forward to this morning. Dale had to leave the house early, so I had morning duty to myself.
Here is what I had on the table for them when they both came downstairs:
And these are the reactions I received from our "angels":
Accompanying these very sad faces were the following comments:
"Where is Daddy?"
"I WANT DADDY!"
"I don't waaaaaant fruit!"
"You're being MEAN, Mommy."
And, finally, as if they just couldn't keep it to themselves any more:
"DADDY LET US HAVE A POP-TART FOR BREAKFAST!"
Guess you better work on making sure the girls don't rat you out, Dale...