“You need to go play,” I told Raine again. She hovered around the entrance to the kitchen. When I shooed her away, she ran down the hall to the other entry point.
Her booming voice listed off all the details of her imaginary horse, Sarah. Dr. Phil was rolling on my laptop and the radio was playing in the background.
“Go play upstairs,” I’d said more than a few times. Up there Athena and J were building dragons with Lego. Raine refused, remaining close by and vying for my attention. I ended up giving it more than I should. Her complicated story line drew me in.
The enchiladas took forever to make. But were met with shouts of joy when the kids arrived at the dinner table. After a few bites they were strangely quiet.
“What’s wrong?” I asked from the kitchen where I was trying to tidy up a bit before sitting down with them.
“It’s spicy,” J answered.
“It’s fine. Eat.”
I sat down and had a taste. It was spicy. Eating a few more bites, I wondered why. I’d not done anything different. It was the same brand of enchilada sauce we always bought. But it was definitely spicy.
The kids pushed things around on their plates. I loaded them up with more sour cream and glasses of milk. They picked at what is usually their favourite meal. I gave up on encouraging them to eat. Clearing the enchiladas, I gave them apples and cereal.
After dinner, putting the empty sauce can in the garbage, I discovered it was hot sauce instead of mild.
After a good laugh, I told the kids, “This is why you need to be quiet in the grocery store when I ask you to.” Our trip to the store had been particularly frenzied as three ADHD kids shouted endlessly, “Look at this!” What they pointed out had nothing to do with what I was actually trying to find on the shelves. Seems I accidently grabbed the wrong sauce.
“And Raine, you should have gone to play upstairs,” I added. Seems I’m not as good at multi-tasking as I need to be.
“Otherwise we end up with a spicy supper,” J commented, through peals of laughter.
“Exactly. This is why I need you to be quiet sometimes.
I’d like to say, ‘lesson learned’ but that’s unlikely.