“What does she have in her mouth?”
“A bag of Saltine crackers.”
“Why did you give her a bag of Saltine crackers?”
“I didn’t give them to her.”
“How did she get them, then?”
“She crawled over to the diaper bag while I was putting on my coat and when I returned she had them in her clutches. Don’t tell me that you haven’t ever turned your back and she’s gotten into something she shouldn’t have.”
“And you didn’t take them away?”
“Of course not. YOU take them away.”
“Hmmmm…”
“Yeah, this whole parenting thing just got one notch more difficult. Do we take them away and listen to her scream for the next thirty minutes until we get to your mom’s house, or do we take the chance that she won’t puncture the bag and leave her alone and drive the thirty minutes in peace?”
“That’s a good question. I have to weigh her reaction PLUS your reaction to her screaming, so my dilemma is even more complicated.”
“I’m on meds now. I should be freaking out that she might spill crackers all over the back seat of the car BUT I SO DON’T CARE RIGHT NOW.”
“Ok, let’s see what happens.”
[We don't do a damn thing.]
[When we arrive at Grandma's house Jon spends 15 minutes detaching the car seat and shaking it free of cracker crumbs and discovers an indestructible paste of saliva and cracker flour covering the straps and buckle.]
“Leta totally won that one.”
“She is obviously the parent in this relationship.”
