About a month ago, The Husband and I moved the digital cable box from the den television to the TV in our room. It was an attempt to help remove TV from being the desired form of entertainment in our house because the stand alone unit only has about 19 channels on it.
It has been largely successful, except for the fact that lately my offspring has started staging an uprising every afternoon around 3:00. They want their Sprout, and they want it N.O.W!!!
Today, my oldest started telling me how "
baw-red" she was. "But Mama," she followed me around whining after three games of Candy Land, 45 minutes of coloring, a dozen stories, and a lovely princess tea, "I'm so, so
baw-red!! I have
NOTHING to do! I
need to watch Sprout!"
The Mohawk Monster quickly followed suit. "Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama, MA-MA, M-A-M-A!!! I boed too, I boed too! I need Spout!"
Now, I don't know about you, but I distinctly remember my dad telling me that I didn't know the meaning of bored and to go find something to do. This "something" usually involved going outside so that he didn't have to listen to my whining anymore.
It's raining so outside wasn't really an option. Instead, I decided it was time to teach the lesson about what being "bored" was really meant.
"Your rooms, now!" I ordered
They giggled and fled to their rooms expecting a new game. I'm glad I am taken so seriously around here.
I instructed them to sit on their beds and do nothing for 15 minutes. I told them that this wasn't a punishment, but I wanted them to learn what bored really meant.
Mini-Me laughed and with a defiant head toss, hopped onto the end of her bed and grinned.
"I can do that. That's easy." How does a four year old have such a smart mouth at such an early age?? I think my parents would call this something along the lines of payback, but I'm not 100% sure about that one.
The Mohawk Monster burst into tears. I knew he didn't get it, but if he was going to follow in the steps of his sister, he was going to take part in the lesson to be learned as well.
I set the timer and went about cleaning up the kitchen.
90 seconds in, Mini-Me was softly whining in her room. "This isn't a very fun game."
Five minutes in, Mini-Me had started asking if she could get up and the Mohawk Monster was sobbing "Dis a not fair! Dis a not fair!!!" I haven't yet figured out how to handle that lesson, by the way. One thing at a time. The Mama must pick her battles.
I proudly stood my ground, however, and when the timer went off, they both exploded from their rooms and started playing oh-so-politely together in the playroom. I haven't heard any complaints of boredom in the last 30 minutes and surprisingly, the word "MINE!" has yet to be uttered.
I think they may be afraid of the consequence that The Lesson of Mine might bring.
Love, hugs, and blessings,
The Mama
Several months ago, my sister came home from college sporting some brightly colored and oddly shaped rubber bands on her wrists. After she explained that they were silly bandz, I dismissed them as a ridiculous waste of money and moved on. 
