Little Big Problems

Have you ever noticed how little problems can become big problems, especially when you have kids? I love my kids to the depths of my soul.  For reals.  They are my life.  But they drive me crazy.  My kids sometimes think that thee tiniest, most ridiculous things are deserving of making a HUGE deal out of.

We have FREQUENT battles over such vitally important things as: who sits where in the car, whose turn it is to pick the TV show, and who gets to stand right in front of the sink while everyone is brushing their teeth. (Seriously this one got sooo bad they all have to take turns brushing their teeth now).  Lately, the things they choose to fight about seems to be getting weirder and weirder and dumber and dumber. Here are some examples of actual things my kids have fought about recently:

• We have two identical little green plates from Ikea.  Cora and Dax had an epic shouting match over who got to use the one they perceived to be ever-so-slightly lighter green.  Like their lives depended on it.  They are THE SAME PLATE.
• Cora and Arden nearly came to blows because they both wanted to sit on the same corner of the ottoman while they put their shoes on.  The other three corners of the very large ottoman sat empty.  
• All three of them were screaming at each other about whether "Baby Peach" in Super Mario Kart is Princess Peach's little sister or her daughter.  (I personally think that Baby Peach is just a younger version of the same princess, but I dared not put forth this theory for fear of getting screamed at).
• There was a very big fight about whether a stuffed dog was a girl or a boy.  "It is a boy, because its collar is green!"  "Nuh-UH!  Green is not a boy color!"  "Its a GIRL because her fur is WHITE!"  "NUH-UHHHH!" "UH-HUUUUH!"  Etc, times infinity...or until timeout at least. 
• And my personal favorite, they have had multiple fights over who gets to SAY THE PRAYER at dinner. It is so spiritually uplifting to hear Cora and Dax both start saying a prayer at the same time...they both increase in volume until it is "prayelling," which of course quickly dissolves into whining.  Here is an example:  "Dear Heavenly Father, thANK YOU FOR THISHEEEEEY!!! I WAS PRAYING FIRRRRRRST!!!  MOOOOOOM!!!!).  I am pretty sure God is plugging his ears at this point.  I know I am.
• Don't get me started on trying to play Candyland with these yahoos.

This is just a very, VERY small sample of the stuff that gets argued about at my house.  There is nothing these guys can't fight about.

Good thing they are so dang cute.  

I love the way that Dax calls his favorite cookies "Snickerdoodle-Doos." He is always getting in trouble for trying to sneak extra ones when he thinks no one is looking, just like his dad.  I was sleeping on the couch earlier this week (Preston has a stuffy nose, and has been snoring insanely loudly), when something woke me up in the semi-darkness of early morning.  I sat up and looked around over to the kitchen, and there was Dax, trying to sneak the entire Tupperware full of the cookies I had baked the night before up to his room.   (He succeeded in a similar attempt with a box of Fiber One Brownies a couple of weeks ago.  I found five or six wrappers in his bed at the cabin one day.  He got his own punishment from that transgression, poor kid.  Clearly, though, it didn't ruin his taste for illicit early-morning treats).  

Cora makes me laugh every day with the things she says.  The other day I found her looking at her toes in a concerned way.  I asked her what was wrong, and she held up a piece of black sock-lint.  "Mom!" she said, her little brows furrowed, "I keep finding this hair between my toes!  Do you grow hair in your toes too?"  

I love how excited Arden is for her birthday next week.  She cannot think about anything else.  She has been planning her party for weeks, already has requested a chocolate cake with white frosting, and has already got a list of people she is inviting to her party all ready on a clipboard so she can write down the info for thank you notes.  Makes me wonder...at what point do birthdays become something to be dreaded?  Truth be told, I am starting to dread not only my birthday, but the kids' too!  Arden CAN'T possibly be NINE YEARS OLD, can she?  Make it stop.

I face my own little big problem each week on laundry day.  My problem is socks.  Why would socks be such a problem, you ask?  Because...

They.  Don't.  MATCH.  I would just throw them all in the garbage right now, but I know if I did that, next week I would have the EXACT SAME PILE on my bed at the end of laundry night.  As soon as I throw one away, its friend shows up.  Hence the ever-increasing sock pile.  It is my own fault for buying so many cutesy socks.  Only plain white or black from now on!  It may seem little to you, but socks make me want to scream.

I suspect that Olive may be relocating the socks to places unknown.  Socks are one of her favorite chew toys...slightly behind Cora's pink boots.  Bad dog:

What is the dumbest thing your kids fight about, or that you used to fight with your siblings about?