T-ball season started today, which can we pause for a second and gag over how ridiculously adorable little kids are playing t-ball? I mean, OMG. I didn't think Mila could get cuter, but then she put on a baseball hat and matching t-shirt and I was done. DONE.
So adorable.
(Sorry, there is to be no photo of said cuteness because her t-ball look very specifically calls out a detail that doesn't exist on the internet. So.) (How vague was that? HA!)
T-ball, of course, starts at a time that is unreasonable because all little kids sports occur when I should be at work. Whatever, though. Joke's on t-ball because I've got Alexis' track practice ending when I should definitely be at work, so I'm already jumping through hoops to make it all work. T-ball is no big thing when I've got track to contend with. WATCH ME BALANCE THE PLATES. I GOT THIS.
Anyway, it starts stupid early, which means there's no feeding anybody dinner on time, so I stopped along the way to pick up snacks. It's not my first rodeo, so I know a 4-year old cannot possibly be expected to go an entire hour without food. Mila picked out cookies for her snack and I, like the mature adult I am, picked out Caramel M&Ms. A shareable size bag of them, at that. Because ADULT. We were in the car snacking our snacks as we drove to t-ball.
"Can I have some M&Ms?" Mila asked.
"No, I'm not nice enough to share," I replied. I was serious. You pick cookies, you eat cookies. Besides, they were Caramel M&Ms. I don't care if "shareable" is on the bag, they're not. It's a law somewhere that you have to eat the entire package all by yourself.
"Mom, sharing is caring. Don't you care about me?" Mila continued. Take a moment to bask in the glory of the passive-aggressiveness that she has displayed at the age of four. It's really impressive.
I am very well-versed at ignoring passive-aggressive. "I care enough to not give you candy you don't need, Mila." See what I did there? I WIN AT THIS GAME.
"Alexis shares with me. She's really nice," Mila continued.
"That's very nice of Alexis to share," I replied. I STILL WIN AT THIS GAME.
We continued back and forth for a few minutes, which happened to be juuuuust long enough for me to finish eating the entire bag of candy. Whoops! I reported the event to Mila.
"I've very disappointed in you, mom," she scolded.
I still have no regrets, except that I gave Mila practice at arguing her way into something. We're all in trouble if she gets better at it.
