Tuesday, December 3, 2013

George is No Mas

The first thing Thomas wanted to do this morning was watch Curious George: A Very Monkey Christmas for the 438th time since our Elf on the Shelf brought it with him on December 1st.  In fact, our initial conversation this morning went something like this:

Me: Good morning sweet boy! 

Thomas: George 'Mas?  George 'Mas??

I don't have the heart to tell him that he's only saying "more George" in Spanish, but I suppose the end result is the same, so he probably wouldn't care.  Either way, he was going to get to watch his favorite monkey again because I'm a ginormous pushover who is susceptible to the incredibly cute manipulations of my youngest son.


Upon retrieving the requested DVD from our basket of Christmas movies, I was horror stricken to open it up and find the entire disc covered in something sticky.  As in, someone who shall remain nameless had used their grubby, grimy, pudgy little boy fingers to manhandle that movie to the point of no return.  I tried to use the sleeve of my sweatshirt to buff out the damage, but it was too far gone.  I may as well have tried to put a peanut butter sandwich directly into the DVD player.  In a desperate attempt, I tried playing the movie.  I'm surprised the disc wasn't actually vomited back out at me after the terrible noises I was hearing.

Try explaining to the George obsessed two-year old that you can't play the George movie.  No mas George, baby.  No mas.

Yeah, that did not go well.  The crocodile tears came flooding out as quickly as someone busting open the fire hydrant and I am not even joking when I tell you that this child dropped to his knees in despair.  Homeboy loves his Curious George.


Freak out or no freak out, I had to get the van loaded up to get Mr. Micah to school.  I left the screaming toddler to his own devices for a couple moments while I went to the laundry room to fetch coats and hats.  Apparently that twelve seconds was enough time for Thomas to scale to the kitchen counter, grab my husband's old iPhone, and start cooking up some broccoli for the monsters of Toca Boca fame as his sobbing abated.

For a split second, I thought of taking the phone away.  Then I realized I didn't really have a death wish on this particular morning.

Coat donned, evil iPhone in hand, we loaded up the minivan and drove off in relative bliss.

Halfway to school, the battery on the phone gave out and I realized I had forgotten to bring Micah's lunch.

Is it Christmas break yet?


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