I need one of dose, mama!
If you walk into a restaurant and pass a brightly colored gumball machine without a second glance, you do not have a toddler.
I do.
Once you have a toddler all sorts of seemingly innocent things become, well, a huge pain in the ass. Walking down the street I'm distracting him from brightly colored spit out gum that is begging to be poked with a stick. Driving home and suddenly I'm taking a sharp left to avoid having to sit for 20 minutes while he watches a tractor dig a hole. Entering a restaurant and I'm really selling the picture of the fish on the wall in hopes he won't turn around and see the damn gumball machine.
I am fairly good at dodging prospective time drainers, germ fests and candy tantrums as we tend to frequent the same haunts, but sometimes I am caught off guard; this week I was cornered. While waiting for a table at brunch we happened to sit right next to a two level, bright toxic shit storm of a candy machine beckoning my son.
"Marbles!" he exclaimed!
"I see that buddy, look at all the pretty marbles."
"I want one!"
Yes, we call gumballs marbles and he buys it. Well, he bought it until recently when he smelled it and was like, what!? Why does this smell so sugary and delicious? Don't worry about it kid, all you need to know is if it goes in your mouth it goes in the trash, Cue the licking, because she didn't say anything about licking it!
Anyway, we talked about how we were about to sit down and eat and wasn't he so excited to eat pancakes and eggs and bacon a jelly packet and two pats of butter! He wasn't, but with flawless timing, the hostess swooped in and escorted us to our table far away from the candy machine. Caches has a thing for older women so it was a brilliant distraction. We sit down and get settled, deep breath. "YOOK! MORE MARBLES!" Seriously restaurant!? Do you want us to eat food or gumballs!?
"I see that, more marbles." And then I said it, the dumbest thing you can say to a toddler, but the words were already out of my mouth before my brain could catch up and tell me to stop, just STOP!!
"Maybe we can get a marble after we are all done with brunch."
Shit
It was out and I couldn't take it back. It was only a matter of time before he'd be licking a brightly colored gumball, his hands and lips collecting sticky layers of food dye and dirt as I reminded him that licking does in fact count as eating!
The waiter takes our order and between spoon fulls of coffee cream and apricot preserves, he is careful to remind me that I agreed to a marble. "You have a quarter for me mommy? I hold it for you?"
Food arrives and for a moment I actually kid myself into thinking he is going to eat. He piles egg and potatoes onto a spoon and eats it in one big bite. "I'm all done. Can I have my quarter?"
Fuck
"Keep eating buddy, you can get the marble once we are all done eating. Mommy and daddy still have a long way to go."
For the next twenty minutes or so he alternates squishing food between his fingers and asking me if I am all done eating yet. Finally I am and I get him the damn quarter for the marble. We walk over to the gumball machine, but oh, but he is a sly one. He doesn't want this gumball machine, no. He wants to revisit the double stacked, quadruple choice one from where we were first waiting. I knew he had a bigger plan. We walk over and I show him which container has the marbles so he can put the money in. Does he want one, nope, he wants, "dis other candy instead."
I'm not in the mood for lessons learned, so I tell him fine, pick which one you want. He chooses jelly bellies and in a moment of mom brilliance it occurs to me. He has no idea how many jelly beans should come out! He is used to a gumball machine where only one is dispensed at a time. Feeling rather smug, I have him insert the quarter and turn the dial. Plink! One tiny jelly bean falls.
"Open the door, buddy!" He opens the shiny metal door and you'd have thought it was Christmas all over. "I got it, I got that candy!" And so, with one expensive buttered popcorn flavored jelly bean, gag, all was well with the toddler.
Seriously though, could we as a collective whole just not put gumball machines in restaurants!?
I do.
Once you have a toddler all sorts of seemingly innocent things become, well, a huge pain in the ass. Walking down the street I'm distracting him from brightly colored spit out gum that is begging to be poked with a stick. Driving home and suddenly I'm taking a sharp left to avoid having to sit for 20 minutes while he watches a tractor dig a hole. Entering a restaurant and I'm really selling the picture of the fish on the wall in hopes he won't turn around and see the damn gumball machine.
I am fairly good at dodging prospective time drainers, germ fests and candy tantrums as we tend to frequent the same haunts, but sometimes I am caught off guard; this week I was cornered. While waiting for a table at brunch we happened to sit right next to a two level, bright toxic shit storm of a candy machine beckoning my son.
"Marbles!" he exclaimed!
"I see that buddy, look at all the pretty marbles."
"I want one!"
Yes, we call gumballs marbles and he buys it. Well, he bought it until recently when he smelled it and was like, what!? Why does this smell so sugary and delicious? Don't worry about it kid, all you need to know is if it goes in your mouth it goes in the trash, Cue the licking, because she didn't say anything about licking it!
Anyway, we talked about how we were about to sit down and eat and wasn't he so excited to eat
"I see that, more marbles." And then I said it, the dumbest thing you can say to a toddler, but the words were already out of my mouth before my brain could catch up and tell me to stop, just STOP!!
"Maybe we can get a marble after we are all done with brunch."
Shit
It was out and I couldn't take it back. It was only a matter of time before he'd be licking a brightly colored gumball, his hands and lips collecting sticky layers of food dye and dirt as I reminded him that licking does in fact count as eating!
The waiter takes our order and between spoon fulls of coffee cream and apricot preserves, he is careful to remind me that I agreed to a marble. "You have a quarter for me mommy? I hold it for you?"
Food arrives and for a moment I actually kid myself into thinking he is going to eat. He piles egg and potatoes onto a spoon and eats it in one big bite. "I'm all done. Can I have my quarter?"
Fuck
"Keep eating buddy, you can get the marble once we are all done eating. Mommy and daddy still have a long way to go."
For the next twenty minutes or so he alternates squishing food between his fingers and asking me if I am all done eating yet. Finally I am and I get him the damn quarter for the marble. We walk over to the gumball machine, but oh, but he is a sly one. He doesn't want this gumball machine, no. He wants to revisit the double stacked, quadruple choice one from where we were first waiting. I knew he had a bigger plan. We walk over and I show him which container has the marbles so he can put the money in. Does he want one, nope, he wants, "dis other candy instead."
I'm not in the mood for lessons learned, so I tell him fine, pick which one you want. He chooses jelly bellies and in a moment of mom brilliance it occurs to me. He has no idea how many jelly beans should come out! He is used to a gumball machine where only one is dispensed at a time. Feeling rather smug, I have him insert the quarter and turn the dial. Plink! One tiny jelly bean falls.
"Open the door, buddy!" He opens the shiny metal door and you'd have thought it was Christmas all over. "I got it, I got that candy!" And so, with one expensive buttered popcorn flavored jelly bean, gag, all was well with the toddler.
Seriously though, could we as a collective whole just not put gumball machines in restaurants!?
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