Breakfast at our house is a major event, even though it happens every morning and is usually just cereal and juice. And Transformers.
SuperDad calls it Cat Herding. Anything involving getting all our Geeklets into one room, or one place, and more or less settled down, all at the same time, is Cat Herding. The Geeklets aren’t cats, so I don’t quite get it. It would be *way* easier to feed six cats at the same time and in the same place, than doing the same for six Geeklets.
Here’s how breakfast goes: I’m giving the baby her bottle and feeling short-tempered since I haven’t had my coffee yet. Being stuck in the armchair, I give directions. Or, rather, shout directions, since everyone already seems to be doing a version of Super-Hero-Jake-And-The-Neverland-Iron-Man-The-Musical, and I can’t hear myself when I speak in a normal voice.
So, a-shouting I will go, which follows approximately this rough outline:
“Hey! Get the cereal on the table!”
(Super-Hero-Jake-And-The-Neverland-Iron-Man-The-Musical continues uninterupted.)
“HEY!! GET THE CEREAL ON THE TABLE!!”
“GET THE CEREAL ON THE TABLE!!”
“THE CEREAL!! ON THE TABLE!! NOW!!”
“AND THE JUICE!!”
“CEREAL AND JUICE!! ON THE TABLE!!”
“I CAN’T HEAR YOU, MOM! SPEAK UP!”
Sooner or later, I get the point across. The Geeklets aren’t tall enough to reach the cereal off the top of the fridge without help, so they push a bench over. Occasionally, one of the smaller Geeklets will get run over in the process.
Geeklet #5: “WAH! He bumped me with the bench!”
Me: “I’m sorry. Be more careful.”
#5: “But he did it on purpose!”
Me: “I’m sorry. Just go sit down for breakfast.”
#5: “It hurts! My knee hurts!”
Me: “I’m really sorry. You shouldn’t have been dancing around in the kitchen. Please go sit down.”
#5: “It’s broken! My knee is broken!”
Me: “No it’s not, you’re still walking around. Now go sit down for breakfast.”
Me: “SIT DOWN!!”
Finally, the cereal is on the table, the Geeklets are mostly sitting, or at least kneeling or balancing or squatting or twirling, on the benches around the table, and we are ready to pray Grace. Until . . .
Geeklet #2: “Hey! Where’s the Cheerios?”
Geekelt #1: “Right here.”
#2: “Those are Rice Krispies!”
#2: “Mom! He didn’t get the Cheerios! He said he got the cereal, but he didn’t get the Cheerios! I can’t eat anything but Cheerios! The Cheerios are still up there, on top of the fridge!”
Me: “I’m sorry. Just get the Cheerios.”
#2: “He did it on purpose!”
#1: “No, I didn’t!” *smack*
#2: “AAAAAAAGH! HE JUST HIT MEEEEE!”
Somehow, I break up the fight from the confines of my armchair (where I’m still feeding the baby) and convince someone to get the Cheerios. At this point, half the Geeklets have left the table and need to be herded back into place. This, unfortunately, involves more shouting on my part, since the rest of the Geeklets who are still at the table have broken out into the chorus from Super-Hero-Jake-And-The-Neverland-Iron-Man-The-Musical and I, again, can’t hear myself speak in a normal voice.
At long last, all the cereal is on the table, the Geeklets are gathered around, Super-Hero-Jake-And-The-Neverland-Iron-Man-The-Musical has gone into intermission, and we are ready to pray. Until someone says, “Where’s the juice?”
At this point, dear reader, I shall leave you. I’m sure you can imagine what it probably takes from this point, to get the juice, the cups, the cereal bowls, and the essential Transformers which life can not continue without, at the table and ready to go, so I will not continue with the blow-by-blow. Suffice it to say that when I finally get my coffee an hour later, I am sorely tempted to spike it.