Every night, when I put my one-year-old to bed, I remind my four and six year olds that they are not to interrupt the putting-the-baby-to-bed-process, which takes about two minutes because he’s a third kid.
I have to remind them not to yell for me.
I have to remind them not to scream.
I have to remind them to only get me if there is an emergency.
“Okay, guys?”
“Okay, Mom.”
“Okay?”
“Yes, Mommy.”
This evening, after I was upstairs for about one minute, my four year old started screaming for me.
“Mommy!”
“Mommy!”
“Mommy!”
“Mommy!”
I threw the baby into the crib and ran down the stairs as fast as I could. What could it be? What happened? Oh, God!
“Look!”
He was eating a handful of chocolate chips that I had given him. Two were stuck together. Two chocolate chips were stuck together, and he thought it was “so, so, so important” that I needed to see it right away.
The end.
UPDATE: I have to add this great comment from Not-The-Mom: “Here’s hoping all your family emergencies are on par with that one!”