The Case of the Mistaken Finger

It is fairly rare that we eat out as a family, mostly because it isn't all that relaxing with a 3 year old, 4 year old and 6 year old but for the most part we are turning the corner on that.  Everyone can sit still (for the most part), use inside voices (for the most part) and use good manners (for the most part).

Friday night we took everyone out to eat after Little Man's basketball game. All was going well even if we were smooched into a booth more appropriate for a family of 4 than a family of 5, that is until Peanut started crying uncontrollably.  It came on as sudden as if he had been stung by a bee.  Papa Bear immediatly asked him if he had bitten his tongue and he yells "No!  My finger!  I bit my finger!"  I was sitting next to him so I had my arms around him, comforting him and soothing him.  Then he confesses quietly to me.  "I bit mine finger because I thought it was a french fry."  I couldn't help it.  I laughed and laughed and laughed and eventually he joined in, calmed down and started eating again.  It is just so much fun to be his mama.  He is always saying something surprising or doing something that completely catches me off guard and cracks me up.

At the same dinner, Little Man called me out regarding my use of sarcasm.  I was squished between Peanut and Sweet Pea, not really all that comfortable and Papa Bear was sitting next to Little Man who was quietly working through a word puzzle.  Papa Bear and I realized that we had unevenly distributed the trouble in the booth.  Papa Bear asked me if I wanted to switch up one of my more boisterous seat mates for Little Man and I said "Noooo!"  Little Man looked up and said, "Did you mean that?" I laughed and told him that I was being sarcastic and he said "You told me I am not supposed to be sarcastic.  Did you mean that?"  I only have myself to blame.