I am convinced my children have tapeworms. There is no other explanation for their incessant need for snacks. They want a snack before breakfast. They want a snack before lunch. They ask for two or three before and after dinner.
They survive the entire school year without snacking all day, but are famished in the summer. “There is no way you are hungry again,” I insist. My daughter will grab her stomach in a dramatic fashion while pleading, “But I am starving.” I swear she could’ve been a star on Days of Our Lives.
The grocery store clerk must think I have an unhealthy obsession with Goldfish crackers. My children also consume a large amount of also fruit, yogurt, etc. The issue isn’t what they are eating, but the frequency. Yes, they are capable of getting their own snacks, but I don’t want them ending up on Maury Povich. Children don’t quite grasp the importance of portion control.
I make them throw away garbage and put their dishes away, but I have to clean up, too. A 5-year-old’s definition of clean isn’t the same as mine. I prefer not to live in filth. I always remind my children “I am not the maid.” I am a waitress who cleans.