It's Gobbles Time!: The weekend I got played

Last weekend our plans were to have no plans and go with the flow. The result? An incredibly fun family weekend. Perhaps a little too much family time in Gobbles' case...

I'll back up. On Friday, one of Gobbles' classmates' Mommas let us know about a special pajama night at a nearby Color Me Mine. Hubs and I decided to be spontaneous (and I told him the crafts could be my mothers' day present) and go.   Gobbles was very serious about picking out his pottery - an angry birds bowl - and so proud to select the colors that he wanted paint it. We chose a piece and some paint for the Lobster and the kids got to work.

Gobbles refused any help with painting; however his problems seemed to stem from changing his mind and repainting the same spot over and over, ending up with a greyish brown tint all over. I will still treasure it regardless. Hubs and I helped the Lobster with her art, helping her hold the brush and trying (but failing) to keep her from sucking her paint covered thumb. We ended up managing to get a hand print from each child onto the dish, which is perfect for me, because there's something I love about my kids' hand prints!

As the paint began to dry, Gobbles' friend from school came in with her family. We chatted for a bit as they did their crafts, Gobbles hung out with his friend, and we mentioned we might check out a local funfair the next day.  My little guy must have said something right because the next day his friend wanted to meet up for a second time the same weekend.

Our plan for the carnival was simple - get Gobbles onto the rides without him freaking out in order to gauge how he will do at Disney three short weeks away. I must say, in comparison to a year ago, our guy was a rock star. He rode all the rides he could, some twice, preferring to go buy himself or with his lil gal pal. There was one ride on which he seemed to out stomach me, but he got a little pale on the teacups. All in all, the tantrum he threw when we ran out of tickets made me comfortable that he is going to have the time of his life when we go see that big mouse.

Sunday my mom begged for a few hours with her precious angels so we were happy to oblige. Hubs did yard work (ahem, cut down 2 giant trees with a chainsaw) and I had a soccer game an hour away so it worked out nicely. When my parents dropped the kids back home, my mom and I discussed the Lobster's little cough that she had, I mentioned that it sounded a little bit Croupy.

That night, the Lobster seemed to be up most of the night, coughing and crying, just in need of snuggles. Finally, around 4am, she seemed to have calmed down for good and we thought we could sleep. Oh we were wrong. An hour later, Gobbles comes running into our room (usually with night terrors he kind of slinks into the hall whining). I'm sick! I'm sick! I need to sleep with you guys! We check his bed, no puke. Feel his forehead, eh kinda warm. So we let him cuddle up with us.

After multiple snoozes on our Monday morning alarm, hubs and I get up and start the morning routine. The Lobster is miraculously up and fine, ready and happy to go to school. Gobbles on the other hand, crying and whining that his belly hurts, he can't go to school, he doesn't want breakfast. At that, I run to work to grab my computer so I could work from home with my poor sick Gobbles. He made a home on the couch and we assumed he'd basically be there all day. I get back, set up my workstation on the kitchen table, and hubs leaves for work, dropping the Lobster Roll off on his way.

What seems like 5 minutes into me settling into a working groove, Gobbles enters the kitchen
- Mommy, are you done work yet? Let's play.
- Gobbles, you said you were sick? You may lay on the couch and watch tv, take a nap, or play quietly by yourself. Mommy told you she'd be working all day long.
- But I'm very hungry.
- Gobbles, do you feel fine? If you feel ok I'm going to send you to school.
- I feel better now, but I cannot go to school because I have a croufy cough.

Yes - he took the "croupy cough" that he heard us describing his sister and made it his own the very next day. As the morning turned to afternoon, it became more and more apparent that my lil guy was anything but sick. He had played me.   And hubs. He played us good. At three years old, he was able to use real tears, resist a meal (if you know my child at all you know his priorities are always FOOD), and sweet talk his "no nonsense" skeptical parents. God help us when he's a teenager.