Most mornings are much the same. I am in slumber. All snug and warm in my ridiculously over-pillowed bed. Perhaps dreaming I’m just about to be ravaged by Joshua Homme. As I roll over and do that semi conscious eye open that we do when we are trying desprately to not actually wake up, I see someone standing at the side of my bed. Staring at me. It is one of the fruits of my loins. One of the little cherubs whom only a few hours earlier, I crept into their room and pulled the blankets up over their dear little body, kissed them and whispered into their ear “Mama loves you”.
Said child will climb into my bed and say something like “The whole world loves you , Mama” or ” I love you like Michael Jackson loves medicine” or even just “Poos in your bum crack”. A 2nd and sometimes a 3rd ( the eldest) will join but mostly he will just go watch cartoons whilst I psyche myself up for the onslaught of the day. Then I’m up. And it’s ON.
Every morning the 1st thing I do is get the boys breakfast ready. 2 Weet-bix heated up and a piece of peanut butter toast.A glass of water and a vitamin C tablet. And for Tahi 2 fish oil tablets in the desperate hope that one day this will give him superpowers to perhaps achieve an attention span more akin to a small domestic animal rather than a goldfish. Though I would settle for the attention span of one of those big googly eyed fat bellied goldfish you see in the pond at the chinese gardens. But I digress. In the last couple of months there has been a new kid on the breakfast table block.
The ‘SUGAR SPOON’
For the those of you who don’t know what the ‘Sugar Spoon’ is. Let me explain it to you. It is the much coveted morning trophy. A display of parental favouritism , designed by Tahi to antagonise his little brothers. The spoon that has been used to sprinkle a small amount of sugar over the freshly warmed Weet-Bix. Said spoon will sometimes have remnants of sugar left on it. Clearly in little boy land, these few extra granules of sugar are a clear show of who has been chosen to be the breakfast tables Alpha male for this particular morning. Now when one has received the Sugar Spoon, one must take the Sugar Spoon and wave it in the air,whilst doing the Sugar Spoon dance and loudly chant ” I got the Sugaaar Spoooon. I got the Sugaaar Spoon”. Now if the breakfast tables Alpha male has done this ritual well , he will set the Beta males into a screaming , rage fuelled torrent of ” Why did Tahi get the Sugar Spoon?!” ” I waaaaannnnt the Sugar Spoon!!” “He got the Sugaaaaaaaarrrrr Spoooooooonn. Yooooouuu dont caaaaaaare aboooout meeeeeeee!!”. At this point the Alpha male will sit back.. An ego freshly stroked by the sheer power of the Sugar Spoon. Satisfied that his work here is done, he will eat his breakfast.Smug and triumphant whilst I desperately try to calm the flailing arms of the sugar spoonless beta males.
Now some would say I’m not silly. Others would even go so far as to say that I am actually a rather intelligent woman ( tho my Solo Mum of 3 kids in Small town NZ status may have some believing otherwise) So I took it upon myself to change this cruel morning ritual. I gave the Sugar Spoon to Rua. Young Rua gleefully held the Sugar Spoon in the air and proceeded to do the ceremonial Sugar Spoon dance and chant. Tahi was not at all impressed and threatened to go on a hunger strike for the morning. It had never occurred to poor Toru that anyone but his biggest brother would ever be the recipient of the majestic Sugar Spoon. It had finally dawned on him that he too could one day hold this Spoon of power. So why not today? He went into all fits of screaming and crying at the injustice of it all. I had to assure him that tomorrow would be his turn. And so it was.
And so it has been that for the past month I have made sure that each child has a turn getting the Sugar Spoon. Tho sometimes I can forget whose turn it is . This does not cast me in good light with my offspring. And tantrums galore will explode. Some mornings I will dip each childs spoon in the sugar bowl so they ALL get the Sugar Spoon. However this results in 3 boys dancing around the table singing the Sugar Spoon song at the top of their lungs. I don’t like noise. When I tell them to just sit down and eat their brekkie or they will be late for school/ daycare..my unruly offspring proceed to sit down and excitedly talk of Sugar Spoons and compose songs of Sugar Spoons and poos and wees. I don’t like noise. I have grown to hate the Sugar Spoon and all its sugary spooness. To want to kick the Sugar Spoon in the shins. To tell it that it’s Mama’s so fat, that when the doctor diagnosed her with a flesh-eating disease, he gave her 10 years to live. Dumb bloody SPOON!!
Yesterday morning whilst my children sat at the breakfast table watching me prepare their breakfast with their power-hungry little eyes, all wondering who would get to be the Alpha Male this good morning, I had an idea. I placed all 3 bowls side by side on the kitchen Island where they could all see my preparations. I picked up the sugar bowl and dipped my fingers in . With a smug flick of my wrist, I sprinkled sugar on their Weet-Bix with my bare hands and then licked my sugary fingers. Yes Siree. In your face, offspring!! I have the power now. Mama’s got the Sugar Hands.