As soon as I got the door open, BigBrother covered all that ground and more.
BB: (crying) "I was afraid I said I don't um DON'T throw away my baby worms."
Me: "I won't buddy, don't worry. Your worms are safe with me."
BB: "And I um said I don't but um I said I didn't want to play with you..."
Me: (in high pitched comical voice) "I KNOW! WHY would you say that, it's soooo silly!"
The rest of the night was pure joy. The kids were laughing the whole time right up until BB went to bed. It was one of those nights you daydream about before you have kids.
It was a sharp contrast to the other evening. I was a little frustrated from work, and DW and I had another quick handoff. But the kids were in a great mood. Until, that is, it became clear I was going to make LittleBrother eat his spinach-feta sausage. Then hell broke loose. He cried the rest of the night, and I didn't really handle it well. It was one of those situations where you know that a change in your mood or a little redirection could have solved the whole thing...but I just couldn't muster it.
The kids chose this night to create new, more forceful ways to splash each other and the rest of the bathroom. BB came out of his room 12 times. LittleBrother was challenging right up until bed.
If I only learned one thing from "Shalom in the Home," it's that when you have young kids, it's never their fault. It's the parents fault. It was my mood that made the difference, the kids were being kids both nights.