Drama King

I am a wee bit dramatic. (I know, SHOCKING). I have heard that since I was a child, I was always being a ham. The Mud Puddle has apparently inherited this quirk too (I should have a separate therapy fund in addition to the college saving).

Never have I seen someone so quick to bust out into tears for no apparent reason. Sunday night we were all eating dinner, when Scott took the Mud Puddle’s juice away from him. This is an on going problem too much juice, too little food. And it’s not like I make him eat anything he doesn’t like (any day now he is going to turn into a hot dog). He likes a variety of foods and I try and make sure he has a couple of food groups covered each meal (I work on the assumption that chocolate milk counts as dairy).

So, Scott snatches the juice to encourage more eating and the Mud Puddle balls up his fist into his eyes and starts a low, mournful cry. Now, in addition to being melodramatic I am also a softy. I quickly went over to him and put my arms around him. He buried his tear streaked face into my shoulder and cried even louder. Scott just rolled his eyes.
“Daddy *sniff, sniff* took my juice *heaving sob, heaving sob*.”
So I explained that Daddy wasn’t being MEAN he just wanted him to eat more and drink less.
Insert Teary Toddler Doe Eyes Here – “I am sorry Mommy, I will eat more,” said the weepy Mud Puddle. It was all I could do not to snatch the juice from Scott and give it back to the Mud Puddle. Yup, he played me like a fiddle. And the sad thing is, I INVENTED that move. Crap.

In addition to the water works theatrics, he has also taken to exclamations of excitement. We (and by ‘we’ I mean me) were playing a Dora game on my laptop last night, he was barely paying attention when all of a sudden he shouts “YOU DID IT MOMMY! GOOD JOB!!” I nearly dropped the computer and screamed like a little girl.

I got the sense that someone at daycare uses this exact tone of voice and volume level because he did it again repeatedly, all the while watching tv and letting me play the game (I kicked BUTT, btw).

As I got older (and more hammy) I also enjoyed belting a show tune or two perched atop my grandmother’s coffee table, needless to say I am not sure how well that would go over, but I should probably pick up “Fiddler on The Roof” just in case. And maybe some tap shoes.