Poor Pynchon. Munchkin really gives him the gears, she truly does. She's harder on him than on me, and, worse, two nights a week, while I'm at yoga, he's in charge and parenting solo during ... The Arsenic Hour, that very long and poisonous period of two hours starting with the end of the working and ending with the start of bedtime.
If you are interested in seeing and hearing one of Munchkin's legendary tantrums, come during The Arsenic Hour.
One night, after a protracted struggle to get Munchkin out of the car and into the house, and then from the end of the TV show and into the high chair, Pynchon had finally sat down to his pizza and removed his earplugs. (Oh yes, that's the kind of tantrums we're talking about. Loud.)
She wanted a banana. He got her a banana. She couldn't start the peel. He started the peel ... but peeled too far! Oh noes! The banana lost structural integrity! When Munchkin lunged at it and took her first bite with the tears still drying on her face, the banana snapped.
The banana snapped.
Munchkin snapped.
She wailed, she caterwauled, she completely. lost. her. shit. Through the sirening, keening, crying, eventually Pynchon could make out "Fix it! The banana ... is ... broken .... broooooo-kennnnnnn! Fix it!"
He tried to reason with her. He tried to console her. He tried to ignore her. He tried to distract her. It was the last banana, and the banana that is rent asunder can never be made whole.
She wailed and wailed and then: "Daaaaaa-ddddyyyyy! Fix it! You can use the taaaaaaaaaaape."
Pynchon snapped.
He went into the kitchen digging around for tape, banana bits in hand. No tape. In desperation, instead, this:
A paper towel and rubber band tourniquet. On the banana.
He brought it back into teh dining room. Munchkin looked at it, surprised. The wailing ... ceased. She paused. And then? Uproarious, glorious laughter. Complete hysterical laughter, a kind of disbelief and pleasure at the absurdity.
It took her a long time to stop shaking too hard to hold the banana, but she finally managed it.
She took one bite, and put it down. Satisfied.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
This Sh*t is Bananas
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8 comments:
That *is* bananas! And a brilliant save by Pynchon.
oh i love this story.
I love the banana tourniquet.
I hate tantrums. We oscillate between trying to make everything a game so as to avoid them and losing patience with all the games and just forcing the issue and enduring the tantrums. I don't know which way is better. This morning, I had to be a horsey and a train caboose but Pumpkin left for day care on time and no one was in tears. Yesterday, I was no nonsense, and she left late, wailing, and leaving a teary eyed mother holding a (hopefully) oblivious newborn in her wake.
I am trying not to listen to the people who tell me that it will get worse when she turns three.
Amazingly, we've had the banana tantrum. What is it with broken bananas?!
THAT is a good Daddy.
Oh, Pynchon rocks.
LOL. That is awesome.
Haha! Awesome.
These types of stories remind me why I started my blog (and why I, perhaps, should have kept blogging). You keep them and hand them over to Munchkin when she is a parent as proof that these moments won't cause you to die of frustration. For you will be the living proof.
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