My children consider movies special treats. I try to reserve them for emergencies: rainy Sunday afternoons, nights when I co-op baby-sitting with friends, or recovery from busy weeks. But sadly, I usually use the kids’ special treat as a special treat for myself. It’s my chance to get things done without interruption. Whether it’s catching up on laundry, creating my weekly grocery list, or returning phone calls, I never manage to sit still to enjoy the movie with my children. Today, I am going to give the washing machine a rest, save the grocery list for later, and turn off the ringer. I can’t wait to snuggle with my kids and watch a movie through their eyes.

Movie night didn’t exactly go as planned.  It started off perfectly.  My husband converted the couch to a bed and laid out cozy blankets.  The kids made bathroom runs.  I popped up a huge batch of popcorn.  And we all snuggled together to watch “Ratatouille.” 

17 minutes into the movie, my husband’s work phone rang.  21 minutes in, Big C wanted water.  22 and a half minutes in, Little C wanted milk.  47 minutes in, the popcorn was annihilated, and Big C wanted yogurt.  48 and a half minutes in, Little C wanted yogurt.  By the time the movie was wrapping up, my husband was asleep, I was toasting a mini bagel for Big C and retrieving more yogurt for Little C (which she rejected once I opened it), those cozy blankets were the source of a tug-of-war, and I had missed most of the movie. 

At least I can tell myself that it wasn’t my own inability to sit still that led to the failure of today’s mission.  What is it about watching a movie that induces hunger?!  I guess the next time I attempt movie night, my revised goal should be to park a mini fridge next to the bed and inform the kids that their short order cook is taking the night off.

I am now a slave to the Porcelain God.  I forgot to mention that the day I took Little C’s binkies away, she decided to potty train herself.  Seriously, she potty trained herself!  For the past couple of months, I’ve allowed her to prance around the house naked because it was the only time she attempted to use the potty.  But the other day was the first time she actually dropped her drawers and did it herself.  She also decided that day that diapers are beneath her.  And she hasn’t worn a diaper since. 
So now I visit the bathroom dozens of times a day.  Sometimes the visits are false alarms, probably Little C’s way of determining just how quickly Mommy will jump when she yells, “Pee Pee Pottyyyyyyy!”  And somehow, she’s only had 1 accident in 3 days.  I’m overwhelmingly proud of her.  I never thought I’d brag about my daughter waking me up at 3:30 AM to use the bathroom, but I am.  At least she’s not screaming for her binky.  She seems to have mastered both transitions flawlessly and isn’t looking back.  Maybe next I should teach her how to pop popcorn and toast mini bagels.

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