The Day I Was Grateful for Chinese

When Mr. and I lived in an apartment, and when it snowed, we would walk to the Chinese restaurant just outside our complex for diner (did you ever notice that Chinese restaurants never close!).  When we moved to a house, we were lucky to be able to continue our tradition.  It's a different Chinese restaurant, it's a bit farther, but the tradition holds.

This picture has some crazy snow overlay my phone automatically put on (I don't know how to change that), so don't let the snowfall pictured fool you.  It was TWICE as much - and windy!  The wind was at our back on the way there, so all was good.  By the time we finished our Singapore rice noodles, sweet and sour chicken, spring rolls, and Genral Tso chicken, the clouds dropped another inch and blew the wind even harder.  We walked home facing the wind.  No worries about our boys; we were all bundled up tight, but it was nice to come home.

No.1 was not pleased that No.2 was pulled in the sled on the way to the restaurant.  He tried to get on the sled a couple times.  Mr. yelled at him.  No.1 began to cry, that hurt-feeling cry, not spoiled-brat-who-didn't-get-his-way cry.  I walked hand-in-hand with him and explained that he had his turn to ride in the sled when we did this with him when he was No.2's age, but now he's bigger and it's No.2's turn to ride.  I don't know if he really understood (kids are so selfish, it's all about them, and I mean that nicely and scientifically), but he seemed to be comforted that I walked with him and tried to explain why things don't always appear to be fair.  He got to ride on the way home (more snow, sled wouldn't drag on pavement).


So, here's to fun traditions.

Here's to understanding.

And here's to a Better Mommy Me.