The hippity hop strikes again

I told J he could go out and jump on the hippity hop for a bit after we got home. Being as how I pick him up from school about 6:20-6:30, and it's pretty much dark by the time we get home at this time of year, this was his response: "We can go outside now?!" With an equally incredulous facial expression to match his tone of voice. You'd have thought I just told him I really did have a third eyeball in the back of my head or something. I wanted to see if it worked as well in getting him to bed early on a weeknight as it did on the weekend.

We didn't stay out long - it was dark, and a little on the chilly side. But he hopped around a bit before deciding he was ready to go in. I think he'd have played longer on the Jump-O-Lene, but one section lost all the air in it when the little plug came undone, and that's too much of a project for me to tackle on a weeknight (my arms still hurt from trying to hold and maneuver the Jump-O-Lene and the air pump by myself yesterday, I wasn't ready to tackle it again today - Brian will be coming up this weekend, I think that will be his job!).

But a little outside time is better than none, and J was asleep by 9:20. For anyone who doesn't know, my child is an incredible night owl, and while 9:20 isn't in the same league as 8:00 in terms of bedtimes, at our house, it's quite respectable. I was pleased. I think we'll be spending a LOT of time outside hippity hopping and jumping in some form or another. If he were better coordinated, I'd think about getting him a pogo stick. But he is his mother's child, so a pogo stick would pretty well guarantee a nasty fall and a trip to the ER. We'll stick with what we've got for now.

I don't know if his blood sugar is just low after school or what, but J was a complete and total beast on the way home. Before we even got out to the parking lot, he was asking to go to Whataburger. I told him no, I didn't have money, and he started howling. He wanted to go to Whataburger - no. Wanted to go to McDonald's - no. Wanted to go to Chili's - no. Wanted to go to Johnny Carino's - no. Wanted to go to the store - no, no and no, no money for one means no money for all. (Let's not even start on how badly I think it sucks that I have to tell my kid I have no money for the occasional take-out meal from freakin' Whataburger. AAAARGH.) At any rate, he screamed about anything and everything he could think of until I just had to laugh. Poor baby, he had tears pouring down his face, wanting to go somewhere and EEEEEEEAT. I told him we had food at home, it wasn't like he'd starve if we didn't go out, and he told me, "But I am, I'm STARVING!" Usually he likes helping me put gas in the car, and since I had to stop and do that, I was able to calm him down by telling him he'd have to sit in the car if he couldn't stop crying. It was stressful, but almost comical at the same time. I mean, is the food at Whataburger *really* good enough to justify that kind of drama? I think not. Sometimes my son can be as over-the-top as a teenage girl.

But he's sleeping now. Sweet boy.

I'd better do likewise. Tomorrow is trash day, and I've got to get up early enough to get the trash put out by the curb. Ugh. I'm telling you, if I get remarried, this little chore will be on the top of the list of things that become my new husband's responsibility.