My kids always make a complete mess of my car. Usually, the mess involves food - snacks I have provided for them. My husband is constantly saying that I shouldn't let them eat in the car, but of course, he doesn't drive with all three of them, for an hour, in rush hour traffic to get them home from school at night. Food spilled in the car is the least of my worries. At least, with a snack in their mouth, they have a harder time screaming at the top of their lungs. The food, though, does nothing to stop foreign objects from being thrown close to my head.
Yesterday, on one of those snack-filled car trips, my four year old spilled his popcorn all over the backseat and the floor. I told him he'd better clean it up. He threw a fit. I stood my ground and ultimately, his sister ended up assisting him by leaning over from her seat to help him get the pieces that were out of his reach.
By the time we got to a stop light, the kids were done cleaning.
"Mom," my 8-year-old daughter said to me. "We picked up all the popcorn and we even found some raisins, too."
"Great," I said, with perhaps a little too much sarcasm in my voice because, clearly, my tone wasn't lost on my daughter.
"Mommy?" she asked. "Why is it that sometimes, when you say 'great,' I feel like you're really saying, 'Oh, brother?'"
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