I'm raising an addict

Little Dog loves coffee. He will chug down an entire cup of my left over morning "medication" with no hesitation. If I'm drinking coffee, he'll give me his most angelic face and ask "Can I have a little sip of 'dis?" And because I am a terrible mother, and a fellow addict, sometimes I say yes.

The other day, Big Dog was talking about my morning fix. He says, "Parents drink coffee, boys drink milk. Boys don't drink coffee." He was answered almost immediately with Little Dog's two cents, "I do!" Well, he was born in Seattle.

Recently Mr. Dog took the boys out for gelato. Big Dog had a hard time deciding what he wanted. he asked the server to tell him what every flavor was: Strawberry, Raspberry, Coffee, Coconut, Pear, Chocolate, Mint, Sweet Cream, Hazelnut...the list was pretty long. He picked, then changed his mind, asked questions and finally settled on coconut. When Mr. Dog asked Little Dog what he wanted, there was no hesitation, "Coffee!" He almost got it too, but Mr. Dog asked the server if there was much coffee in it, and she let him know it was a very bad idea. He was talked down to chocolate.

Just last night we attended a house warming and BBQ for some friends of mine. In honor of their new house, they were given a cake in the shape of the new house. If anything captures the imagination of a 3 year old is is a house made of cake. Unfortunately, we had to leave before the cake was served. As I tried to explain to my sugar fiend that there was no cake for us, but he could have a treat when we got home, a friend of our host stepped in. "Here," he said, giving a small handful of chocolates to each of the boys. "You may not get cake, but here's some chocolate."
"Are there coffee beans in there?" asked Big Dog (we still aren't sure how he even knew to ask, but I do claim he is a child genius so that might be the explanation.)
"I'm not sure," said the friend and popped one into his mouth. "Oh no, you guys are going to hate me," he said looking to Mr. Dog and me apologetically.
Big Dog didn't want his, once he heard there was coffee involved. Little Dog on the other hand, started shoving them in his mouth before we confiscate the contraband thus demonstrating the simple differences in my children.

For the record, that isn't coffee in the photo, it's hot chocolate but if I turned my back for even a second I'm pretty sure he'd order a mocha.

Just like mommy. (Yes I'm raising a coffee addicted grouch)

Little Dog is not a morning person. If he wakes up before he is good and ready, we are treated to his "grouchiest child alive" persona for at least an hour. Unfortunately, on Friday morning, Little Dog was about to fall off his bed, and when Mr. Dog went to rescue him, he awoke. It wasn't pretty.

As always, he started off protesting that it was too bright. Like his mother, his little eyes are very sensitive to light, but unlike his mother, getting up in the morning involves the demands that all light sources be turned off. Frequently this involves demands that the sun itself be turned off. When we can't switch off the center of our solar system, the grouchy shouting starts. "Too bright! Turn the light off! It too bright!"

By the time Mr. Dog brought Little Dog upstairs to the living room, he was in full grump mode. As soon as he saw me on the couch, he had to be on my lap. When Big Dog tried to join in the snuggle, Little Dog attempted to exert his ownership of my whole being, not just the side he was snuggling "Nooooo! Big Dog can't have my mama! You can't sit there!"

His next move was to try to claim my property. He edged over to my coffee and began to eye my mug. "No, that's mama's coffee." I said, knowing that he will, if permitted, chug an entire cup of coffee while no one is looking. He turned to me with a stern look on his face. "No, that's my water."
"No, that's my coffee," I said and moved the mug out of his reach.
That was the wrong move, he started shouting, "Noooo! You took my coffee! Mama took my coffee! My coffee!"
"Little Dog, coffee isn't for little boys."
"Yes, that's for boys. Not for mama."
When I continued to withhold coffee, he got grouchier.
"I don't like you, mama." and this went on for some time.
Finally Mr. Dog stepped in. "Little Dog, if you don't like mama, maybe you need to go back downstairs for a little while. Do we need to go back downstairs?"
His brows furrowed as he mulled over his options. Eventually, in a softer voice filled with resignation, "Hmmm," he says, "maybe I do like mama."
Not entirely convincing, but good enough to crack up the grown ups.