Marshmallows in the Toilet
http://powerofmoms.com/articles/118/1/Marshmallows-in-the-Toilet/Page1.html
April Perry
April Perry is a mother of four precious children and is the founder of "Power of Moms." She received a BA in Communications and loves reading, writing, learning from the wonderful mothers around her, and spending time with her family (especially her cute husband). By April Perry
Published on 06/20/2008
This title most likely won't surprise any mothers out there...but the experience I had with these sticky little treats helped me see my children in a whole new light.
Marshmallows in the Toilet
It had been one of those days when EVERYTHING went in the toilet--my toothbrush, a toy car, a bouncy ball--you name it. My little toddler had become enamored with the big porcelain bowl, and since his big sister was potty-training, I couldn't lock the bathrooms (though I'm sure there's some great device for sale out there just for this purpose).
By the end of the day, I had had it, and I told my husband that I couldn't handle sticking my arm into the toilet's throat even one more time. He calmly walked to the pantry, pulled out three marshmallows, and said, "What do we have three of?"
"Children." I responded.
"No. What else do we have three of?"
"Toilets." I was starting to get mad. Did he not care that I'd been intimately acquainted with those things all day?
"All right," he continued. "I want you to go put one of these marshmallows in each of our toilets, but you can't just drop them in. You need to come up with a creative way to get each one in, and then flush'em down."
I started to protest, but he obviously had some point he was trying to make, and he's just so cute that I can't turn him down, so I began my rounds. At the first toilet, I turned around backwards and threw the marshmallow over my shoulder. It plopped right in the middle of the bowl. The second time, I pulled the marshmallow apart into little tiny pieces, sprinkled the fragments on top of the water, and watched them swirl as they got flushed down (I recognize I wasted a lot of water here, but how was I to explain to my children the next morning that I'd been sticking marshmallows into the toilet while they slept?). For the final marshmallow/toilet encounter, I threw the marshmallow as high into the air as I could, watched it bounce off the celing, and let it dive-bomb to its doom. This one took a few tries, and did I feel silly! This would actually make a great party game.
At last I was empty handed, so I returned to my husband to find out what on earth he had been thinking when he sent me on my marshmallow mission. As soon as he saw me, he smiled and said, "Now, wasn't that the best time you've had all day?" That was not what I expected to hear.
He wasn't trying to suggest that my life is boring or mundane, because I actually have been blessed with a great life. Instead, my husband's object lesson taught me that it's okay for kids to be kids, and it's okay for us to join them once in awhile to do "kid" things that sometimes don't make sense. I spend so much time being "the mom," and not nearly enough time getting on my children's level to enjoy the exciting aspects of our environment.
Our newest baby is starting to crawl and explore this month, and I try to spend as much time as possible exploring with him and enjoying how excited he gets over everything: the moss around the fake houseplants, the shoes by the door, and the attachments to the vacuum cleaner. Life simply isn't boring when you look through the eyes of a child.
And now, when my husband says something like, "Didn't we just sweep the floor? Our children are so messy!" I want to say, "Honey, come to the pantry. I've got a few marshmallows for you."
By the end of the day, I had had it, and I told my husband that I couldn't handle sticking my arm into the toilet's throat even one more time. He calmly walked to the pantry, pulled out three marshmallows, and said, "What do we have three of?"
"Children." I responded.
"No. What else do we have three of?"
"Toilets." I was starting to get mad. Did he not care that I'd been intimately acquainted with those things all day?
"All right," he continued. "I want you to go put one of these marshmallows in each of our toilets, but you can't just drop them in. You need to come up with a creative way to get each one in, and then flush'em down."
I started to protest, but he obviously had some point he was trying to make, and he's just so cute that I can't turn him down, so I began my rounds. At the first toilet, I turned around backwards and threw the marshmallow over my shoulder. It plopped right in the middle of the bowl. The second time, I pulled the marshmallow apart into little tiny pieces, sprinkled the fragments on top of the water, and watched them swirl as they got flushed down (I recognize I wasted a lot of water here, but how was I to explain to my children the next morning that I'd been sticking marshmallows into the toilet while they slept?). For the final marshmallow/toilet encounter, I threw the marshmallow as high into the air as I could, watched it bounce off the celing, and let it dive-bomb to its doom. This one took a few tries, and did I feel silly! This would actually make a great party game.
At last I was empty handed, so I returned to my husband to find out what on earth he had been thinking when he sent me on my marshmallow mission. As soon as he saw me, he smiled and said, "Now, wasn't that the best time you've had all day?" That was not what I expected to hear.
He wasn't trying to suggest that my life is boring or mundane, because I actually have been blessed with a great life. Instead, my husband's object lesson taught me that it's okay for kids to be kids, and it's okay for us to join them once in awhile to do "kid" things that sometimes don't make sense. I spend so much time being "the mom," and not nearly enough time getting on my children's level to enjoy the exciting aspects of our environment.
Our newest baby is starting to crawl and explore this month, and I try to spend as much time as possible exploring with him and enjoying how excited he gets over everything: the moss around the fake houseplants, the shoes by the door, and the attachments to the vacuum cleaner. Life simply isn't boring when you look through the eyes of a child.
And now, when my husband says something like, "Didn't we just sweep the floor? Our children are so messy!" I want to say, "Honey, come to the pantry. I've got a few marshmallows for you."