I asked Joey what he wanted for breakfast a few weeks ago and he said “a trio of oatmeals– one with brown sugar and butter, one with cranberries and almonds and one with chocolate chips.” And, after banning my husband from watching the Food Network with him, I figured it was a pretty cute idea. And so, we had a trio of oatmeals for breakfast. I even did the chocolate chip one.
I felt pretty proud of my brilliant parenting. My kids all ate THREE whole bowls of oatmeal that morning. And talked about how cool their mom was all day. Smooth mommy move, eh?
Not so much.
Because now I’m getting requests for trios of everything.
A trio of PB & J’s for Joey’s lunch– one with honey, one with cherry jam and one with grape jelly.
A trio of tacos for dinner– one chicken, one shrimp, one beef.
A trio of ice cream sundaes for dessert.
A trio of games at game time for goodness sake.
And so, I’m putting my foot down. I admitted to my kids that I completely lost my marbles on oatmeal day and that now and in the foreseeable future, there will be no more trios of anything. No way, now how. In our household, I’ve learned the value of setting our expectations very, very low. Which means I have to erase this trio idea completely from their minds. Until one day, I surprise them with a trio of pancakes one Saturday morning.