Four Mysteries

I really should be vacuuming and mopping my kitchen/dining room right now.

Funny, I think I feel a blog post coming on.

OK, I've got four mysteries for you. Let's all ponder in harmony.

#1. How is that a five-year-old girl can be happy and well-behaved at her Kindermusik class, cheerfully making penguins from cutouts of her handprint and even, against her shy nature, calling out a comment in front of everyone during the family-sharing time, and then have a complete, tearful, sibling-striking, parent-sassing, timeout-earning, meltdown while getting into the car?

#2. How can a seven-and-a-half-year-old boy claim to be staaaaarving as his mother marches him chirpily along a piece of the Barton Creek Greenbelt and then forces him to endure aforesaid Kindermusik family-sharing time, yes, how can he declare approximately thirty-two times that he's SO hungry, yet refuse to eat any of the giant cluster of grapes she brought along for a snack? Seriously, people, if anyone has any insight into this fruit-a-phobia we have endured for the last five years, please email me before I go completely crazy and stuff a watermelon down his throat (just kidding!) (mostly).

#3. How can the powers of Mommy Guilt be so insidious that a mom can spend one-on-one time with each of her three children, playing Legos, dancing with scarves around the living room, and reading The Wheels on the Bus many times over, respectively, but then feel like roadkill at the end of the day because a trip to JoAnn Fabrics with the Wild Things exceeded the limits of her sanity and brought out the Mommy Monster?

#4. How can a nominally-mature adult look at her flailing, whining two year old, formulate the words, "My goodness, you sure are cranky this morning!" in her mind (with cranky tone of voice to match!), and instead scoop her up in her arms and say, "Oh, little kitty cat [child's alter ego for the day], you're having a tough time right now, aren't you?" And then melt as the small arms go around her neck and the head droops onto her shoulder?

Oh, wait. Never mind that last one. I already know the answer. It's "not I, but the grace."