2 1/2 hours and counting = the time it has taken Ian to clean up the playroom
10 minutes = the time it would have taken me to do it
15 = the number of items I originally asked Ian to pick up off the floor
3 = the number of times Ian asked me for a "play break"
26 = the letters of the alphabet song that he keeps singing over and over and over again
Over 500 = my blood pressure. At least.
8 = the number of jelly beans I've had to consume to resist marching into the playroom to holler at him
1 = Twix bar that I have eaten for that same purpose
6:30 = the time that Ian will be going to bed tonight
Honestly. I don't know whether to stand my ground on this one or to cave. I orginally asked him to pick up the toys on the kitchen floor so that I could sweep and mop. After an hour of waiting for him to freaking pick up the 15 items that were on the floor (after countless reminders and endless nagging) I finally did it, and then told him that his punishment was that he had to clean everything off the floor in the playroom.
Needless to say, that was almost 3 hours ago. And I am ready to beat myself over the head with a Gator Golf club.
It makes me so frustrated, because both William and Chase are down for a nap, and we could have been doing something cool together for the last 2 hours. But instead I've been a freaking harpie, and he's been **oh, the names I could fill in right here right now!**
And you know what? Except for the fact that he can't go outside and play with the neighbors right now, he is not really fazed by any of my tactics. He doesn't seem to care in the least that it's beautiful outside and Mommy had time to spend with him, and he totally wasted it. I am the only one that is ready to bury myself alive in the tent full of stuffed animals rather than spend another minute on this issue, it seems.