When I was getting up with babies around the clock I was so sleep deprived that whatever my last thought was, or whatever I last dreamed of, became an obsessively repeated word in my head while I fed my babies. For example, if I happened to have a dream about Britney Spears singing Oops I Did It Again, I would rock back and forth thinking, “I did it again. I did it again. Britney did it again. Oops did it again. again. again. again. Britney I did. I did Britney again. Oops.”
And then I’d get mad at myself for not being able to shake that one solitary thought from my head. It was a sad existence, those middle of the night feedings, and since my kids are well beyond that now I haven’t experienced that urge to punch myself in the face for years.
I made the singular mistake of purchasing a toy train for my son while we killed time during his sisters horse lessons. He couldn’t decide between Thomas, Flynn, and Victor and before I could decide if a five year infatuation with these trains was normal he had Thomas clutched to his bosom and we were off.
About an hour later he was all, “Can we go back and get Victor now?” and I was all, “Um, no. Since when do we just willy nilly go buy toys at your will, aside from today when we got Thomas?” These kids are so entitled.
And like some strange repetitive robot, my boy has since asked for Victor 9,432,213 times. When can we get Victor? Why can’t we get Victor? He has his own money for Victor. Victor is not that far away. If he stops asking for Victor can we get Victor. He’s sorry for saying the word Victor. He won’t say Victor anymore. But seriously, he’s waaaants Victor. He won’t be my friend if he can’t have Victor. Victor. Victor. Victor.
Victor, I hate you.
Part of me wishes I had recorded the entire evening so that you could see that this kid is crazy, but then after viewing it I’m afraid you’d seriously think something is wrong with him and leave contact numbers to your psychologists, because what five year old on this God green planet says the word VICTOR 9,432,213 times!?!
It got to the point where, just like when I was sleep deprived and nursing, all I could think about was Victor. Every time I attempted to have a thought about anything outside of Victor, there it was again. VICTOR. I threatened to send my boy to his room, but can I really send him to his room for saying the word “Victor” too much? The answer to that is yes, but I knew it didn’t matter, the second he came out it would start all over again.
Jesus taught me a real lesson tonight…and that is, if you’re going to buy your son a toy willy nilly, you should probably buy the entire stock of toys to avoid listening to him beg for them 9,432,213 times throughout the course of the rest of the evening.
Got your message Jesus.
Loud and clear.
At this point I’m just relieved it wasn’t Percy he was asking for.