This Will Hurt Me More Than It Hurts You

Some punishments I dole out end up punishing me more than them.

We’ve had a rash of vitamins making their way to the carpet rather than people’s mouths. I picked up seven from the kitchen floor last night while vacuuming. I’m not sure if I’m more worried about the missed nutrition or if I’m pissed about the expensive dye-free, sugar-free, vegetarian, whole foods waste. Probably the latter.

I ranted before I’d had time to process.

“The next time I find a vitamin on this floor, there will be no tv for a week!” I shouted. If I was a superhero, I’d be Vacuuming with Venom. You should never vacuum angry.

I said it out loud. Now I have to do it, right? I hate that part of parenting. There’s no space for my emotional rants and retractions. Geez. As if I have any clue what I’m about to say before I say it.

The threat is working, though. Piper has appointed herself the keeper of the vitamins. She’s supervising Sissy for once. “I have an idea,” Piper told me this morning crawling in bed next to me. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the vitamin problem. I can’t go a week without tv. Why don’t we eat the vitamins as soon as they’re put on our plates? That way we don’t wait and accidentally drop them on the floor.”

Brilliant. Clearly, the punishment fits the crime.