The Robber Did It!

Life at the WX house is never boring.  That statement is an accurate statement without a doubt.  If there were degrees of accuracy, that would be high.  But do you know what would be even more accurate??  Life with Rob is never boring.  Want an example?  Take a sneak peek into a morning at our house last week...

Rob woke up and lumbered into my bedroom where I was finishing getting ready and Sam was already cuddled up on my bed.  At Sam's request, I had turned the TV on.  I mean really, what's the harm in a little PBS kids early in the morning?  It keeps him still and quiet long enough for me to put on a little  makeup.

Well, apparently Rob didn't seem to thin it was harmless.  In fact, he found it quit disturbing and and painful.  He began screaming at me to "Turn the TV off!!!  Why do you always make me watch TV?  It's hurting my eyes.  Owie, owie, owie!  My eyes hurt!  Please don't make me watch TV!  I can't get dressed if I have to watch TV!"  I never knew Martha Speaks could be such a painful experience.  Nor did I know how malicious I was in forcing my children to watch educational televised programming!

On and on he went.  "My eyes!  My eyes!  Don't make me watch TV!  I don't want to watch it.  Turn it off!"  Any passerby would have thought I was doing serious harm to my child.  They would have thought I had him tied to bedposts, forced his eyes open with toothpicks and was forcing him to watch inappropriate content from a blaring big screen television.  In reality, he was voluntarily standing in the middle of my bedroom, fixing his own eyes upon the small screen of my old TV tuned into cartoon focused on expanding the vocabulary of young children.  (On second thought, maybe I should have turned it off.  It's not like he needs his vocabulary expanded!)

Of course, I could have put an end to it by turning the TV off.  But by the same token, he is Rob.  While it would have made peace for the moment, another moment would have been just around the bend.  Not to mention the fact Sam was perfectly content on my bed to cuddle with his blankie while I peacefully (or as peacefully as possible) coated my eyelashes with mascara.

Somehow we managed to get through the trials and tribulations of getting dressed (even with PBS airing), eating breakfast and loading ourselves into the truck to head out for the day.  It wasn't without a good deal of whining and whimpering from Rob though.  That's why when we pulled out of our driveway and he opened his mouth to start with yet another rant, I looked in the rearview mirror at him and said, "Rob, please.  Please, just close your mouth.  I don't want to hear any more.  I'm tired of it this morning."

Well of course he closed his mouth like the obedient, respectful young man that he is.  Oh wait.  That was just my dream version of it.  Reality?  He screams back at me, "You know I DON'T HAVE A MUTE BUTTON!"  sigh.  Yes, I do know.  I know ALL too well.

Somehow I mange to remain composed and keep the us all on our merry little way and pull into the driveway of our daycare.  It's Thursday, which means Sam goes to Becky's and Rob tags along with Ray and myself to school through preschool and then he also heads to Becky's.  "Boys, stay buckled up.  I'm going to run in and drop Sam off and then we'll all get to school."

I dropped off Sam without too much hassle and checked the time as we reverse out of Becky's driveway.  "Whew.  We're still on time.  Amazing!"  I thought to myself as my thoughts are interrupted by a holler from the backseat.

"Mom!  You forgot to buckle me!"

What?  Did I not buckle him before we left our house?  Has he been unbuckled this whole drive?  No.  I distinctly remember buckling him in our garage.

"No.  I DID buckle you.  Why did you UNbuckle?"  I put the truck back in park and open my door to make way to Rob so I can re-buckle him.

"I didn't.  The robber did."

"The robber?  Really?  There was a robber out here while I was inside Becky's house?"

"Yup."

I reach around Rob to click his buckle into place and my hand touches something.  I glance around him to see what it is.  It is a bouquet of flower shaped lollipops that I had purchased to serve as our centerpiece for our preschool concert that evening.  How did these get from my bag in the front seat to Rob's seat?  I confident I know the answer, but I still ask the question.  "Rob, how did these get back here?"

"The robber did it!"

"The robber?  You mean there was a robber here who moved my suckers and unbuckled you but took nothing?  Not my laptop.  Not my wallet.  Not you or Ray.  Not even the suckers. Huh."

"He was going to take the suckers but he dropped them when he unbuckled me and then he just left."

When I got to school I shared the robber story with a co-worker who laughed and said, "Sounds like he got his mama's imagination and story telling skills."  Man, if that's true, I might be in for some SERIOUS trouble!