I’ve returned to the world of Facebook and other media sites after a month of hibernating. My return is cautious, of course, since I’ve made great progress over the past month in reducing my addictions and don’t want to backslide into my previous time-wasting habits. I’ve got a blog post in the works detailing my month-long un-thrilling adventure in de-toxing myself from media; be on the lookout for that later this week.  I decided to kick off my ‘return to the internets’ party by jumping right in to tell you about our latest adventure and my big parenting fail of the week.
We have an extra little one in our house for a few weeks.

We’ll call him Jack-Jack.
I’m fairly certain they used our little visitor as the model for Jack Jack in this clip from The Incredibles. Definitely a little fiery at times, and quick as lightning, but mostly sweet as can be. I don’t always feel like Mrs. Incredible, though. So, on to my parenting fail:

Yesterday (Sunday) evening we decided to take the kiddos to the park because it was a beautiful 65 degree day. I forgot, though, that just because it is warm doesn’t mean the sun doesn’t still set at 5:00pm. We roll up to the park after having chatted with Charlotte the entire way about what her favorite part of the park is and what she is going to do first, etc. It is dusk. The park gate is closed. Plan B. Chick-fil-A has an indoor play place that Charlotte can now traverse independently. We report to our 2-year-old backseat driver that the park is closed. She weeps. We try to stop the tears by talking about the yummy chicken nuggets she will get to eat and the slide that she can play on after dinner as we drive to Plan B. She starts gabbing all about her chick-fil-a desires and even says “Mommy, my Chick-fil-a waiting for me”. heart melt. As chick-fil-a comes into view Chris and I both realize it is Sunday. Chick-fil-a is closed on Sundays. There will be no slide. No chicken nuggets. Plan C. The mall has a play-place. And a food court. We drive to the mall. It is 5:30. The mall closes at 5:30 on Sundays. As we back out of the parking space, Charlotte weeps again, “My chicken, my slide”. More tears. Jack Jack begins to get hungry for dinner as well. Surround sound wailing commences in the back seat.  We explain to Charlotte that the slide is closed. She weeps even bigger crocodile tears with her mouth gaped open and puts her hand over her forehead dramatically. Plan D. We drive home and let her eat bread and watch Frozen while laying under a fort.

She was just as content with Plan D as she would have been with Plan A, B, and C, but I hated that feeling of not being able to keep my word to her. This is just the first of many lessons we will both learn as mother and daughter. A lesson in disappointment for her, a lesson in keeping plans under wraps until the optimal time for me. I’m sure that isn’t the only ‘bread for dinner under a blanket fort’ kind of nights we will encounter as awesome parents.