I just signed up for a 5-weeks to fitness program with Snap Fitness in Antioch (announced it here). Today is my first day so I spent most of this weekend eating whatever the heck I wanted to because I needed to get all of our junk food out of the pantry
and into my tummy.
So I’m standing at our pantry on Thursday night eating Oreos, getting in a little ‘me time‘, when Otis walks into the kitchen.
Otis: Doing you? (Translation: What are you doing?)
Otis: Dat? (Translation: What is that?)
Me: Nothing. Wait. I’m the grown up. I don’t owe you any answers.
Otis: Back, Mom. (Translation: Is this really how you want to live your life? On a fast track towards obesity and diabetes? Is this the example you want to set for me?)
Me: Fine. Fine. I’m putting them back. (Reality: Stuffing as many cookies in my mouth without The Enforcer seeing and then chewing them slowly and quietly.)
Then on Sunday we go to church where Otis gets not one BUT TWO full on candy bars from very sweet older people. Didn’t even ask me if he could have them just saw a stocky little boy and thought to themselves, “This young man clearly eats chocolate. Lots of it. Here’s a CANDY BAR.” And Otis is happily stuffing all the candy in his back pack and learning that the Lord is, indeed, good.
Well, we get home and I remember the candy bars. Yum. So I try to sneak one of the bars out of his backpack, but Otis’s spidey senses are on.
Otis: Have it. (Translation: Give it to me.)
Me: Well, let me help you open it. (Translation: If I’m sneaky enough I can break off a piece for myself.)
We unwrap the candy bar and Otis starts getting messy because it’s melted a little bit.
Otis: Clean it up! Clean it up!
Me: Ok, chill. You’re gonna be fine. You have a bath scheduled for Wednesday. It’s gonna be ok.
After getting all of the chocolate off of his hands Otis decides that candy bars are for the birds.
Otis: Throw away, Mom.
Me: What? No. I want the candy bar.
Otis: Throw away. Come, Mom. (Starts walking to the trash can and motioning me to follow him.)
Me: Are you serious? We can eat this. Come eat this with me.
Otis: No. Throw away. Come, Mom.
Me: I can’t believe this. (Follow my 3-year old to the trash can.)
Otis holds the trash can lid open so I can put a perfectly good candy bar in the trash. And I do because no candy bar is worth dealing with a potential tantrum.
Otis: Thank you, Mom. All better.
Me: Yeah. Whatever.
Normally I have little to no hope that I’ll successfully stay on a diet, but I’m thinking Otis the Enforcer might change that for me.