Well today it took the promise of both a car and a cookie to get her rolling. But they were out of free cookies. Since I am a woman of my word, and I promised SB a cookie, I went to the cookie section of the bakery. My Giant, for some reason, does not believe in selling individual plain cookies. Most of the cookies they sell individually has about 2" of frosting on them. Which is usually not a big deal, but this frosting is hard and messy. So I got the cookie with the least amount of frosting: a gingerbread man. This gingerbread man happened to be wearing an Orioles jersey (made out of a tiny bit of the dreaded frosting). Although I live in Baltimore, I'm not a huge O's fan, but I figured what the heck, SB won't care!
So in addition to being a hypocrite and bribing my daughter with food after I swore I never would, I also happen to be a very ethical person. So to get away with giving my daughter a cookie that I haven't paid for yet, I take a second cookie and put it in a bag and then when I go through the self-checkout lane like I always do because I am a glutton for punishment, I ring it up as 2 cookies. Overkill? Maybe. But that makes giving her the not-yet-paid-for cookie ok in my eyes.
SB oohs and aahs over her cookie but doesn't eat it. She is obviously nothing like her mother. So by the time I pay for all the groceries, pack them away in the truck, return the megacart and get SB strapped in, it still hasn't been touched. By this time it's close to 6pm and all I've eaten since noonish is a handful of Froot Loops. I'm starving. So I take a bite of the cookie. In case you were wondering, I ate a foot. SB sees this and starts BAWLING. By this time I'm driving away from Giant and she is absolutely inconsolable. For some reason, my starving nutrient-deprived brain thought that an appropriate response to her crying is to try to comfort her by saying "it's ok, he has another foot." Apparently this was not an effective method of consoling her.
She cries the entire way home. She cries as she gets out of the truck. She cries as she walks up the steps to the house. Finally once we get inside the door, I root through the bags and find the other Oriole. I give this to her and she stops crying! Great!
Oh but it doesn't end there. Our dog, a chocolate lab, decides to investigate what SB is holding and actually knocks the intact Oriole to the ground. Where he breaks in half. Actually he broke in half and lost a foot at the same time. The three of us stare at the poor guy for a full minute before I grab him and give him to SB with the cheeriest "OK, here's your cookie" I can muster up. You know how they say that when a kid falls, she doesn't really know how to act, so chances are if you act like it's not a big deal, they won't cry? That doesn't work on a 2-1/2 year old with broken cookies. She started crying harder than before, if that was even possible.
So I give her the first Oriole with the missing foot and the second Oriole, all in a pile with the severed limbs. This does not make her happy. I run around the house like a chicken with its head cut off looking for something- anything to make her happy. At this point, I'd buy her a pony if a salesman showed up at my door. Finally I spotted a bag of M&Ms on the counter and poured some out for her. The waterworks stopped. More bribery with food? Yes....but maybe she is like her mom, after all!
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