Every now and again, I open my mouth and something my parents have said a million times before comes out. This morning was one of those experiences. Typically, we buy a frozen orange juice concentrate to make orange juice for the boys. This week, however, there was a super deal at the commissary on a large ‘pitcher’ of orange juice that I couldn’t pass up.
The boys finished that juice off this morning with breakfast. Boy number 3 was tasked with cleaning the kitchen after our meal. Playing with the lid on the spout of the orange juice container, he announces that the trash is full and his brother needs to bag up the garbage or he can’t do his job. This, of course, turns into a huge conundrum that made me question if I really wanted the boys to do their chores causing me to deal with all the arguing that ensues. (I am sure this is their ploy each time they have tasks to complete.)
Entering the kitchen to
threaten redirect them, I see number 3 playing with the juice container. Loudly, I announce, “Stop playing with that! And don’t throw it in the trash either, it’s a good container and we’ll reuse it for more juice.” Right then, a memory of my parents emphatically ordering us to save empty cool whip containers and butter tubs despite having a cabinet or two full of plastic ware that practically attacked a person upon opening the doors invade my brain.
Memory re-run ends and I walk over to my own plastic ware cabinet to take a peek.
Slowly, I am becoming my parents…