The Grapes of Wrath...No Skins Edition.

Kids are the greatest. Being a parent is the truly the most rewarding thing on the planet. Each day I'm amazed by my daughters. To be able watch them learn, grow and adapt to life is really just flippin awesome. But then.....

Just as I'm lost in thought about how lovely being a parent is, (and it is) my 2.75 year old sashays out of the kitchen, turns around, puts her hand up signaling stop and asks for a bowl of grapes.... NO SKINS PLEASE. I like my grapes Mom, just get ridda da skins. EXIT. STAGE. LEFT.

What the EFFFFFF?!? I don't even know whats worse about this. The fact that she requests skinless grapes or the fact that I was on Mompilot, which is similar to autopilot, and almost skinned those lovely winemakers for her. The common sense stick suddenly slapped me and I just give her regular grapes because, well, it's a grape. She asks me why she can't have them skinned? I explain to her in my perfectly pitched parent voice that Mommy just doesn't have time to do that and she should just eat them.The skins are good for you and have magic in them that will make you a unicorn. While in my head I'm thinking- Where did this little diva come from? Skin my grapes. Kid please. Try wiping your own rear end, huh? I would actually love it if you could do that but we all know that won't happen. Mommy doesn't have time because she's knee deep in other ridiculousness like, well, pretty much anything besides that.

She then asks the oh so expected....."But why?"

Why?!? I just told you why tater tot. There will be no skinning of the grapes here. Ask me again and I will steal the title The Grapes of Wrath and write and entirely different book. One about a Mom that goes wackadoo after a lifetime of silly demands from her kids. (To be honest, I can't even recall what the original one was about, but I know  it wasn't about skinning grapes. I'd be in the clear regarding subject matter.)

I leave the diva to her bowl of grapes, skins on of course, and go about my chores. I come back into the room and few minutes later only to discover some sort of mass fruit murder. She had smashed all her grapes in an effort to remove the skins herself and completely mutilated them. So not only did she not have skinless grapes, she now had no grapes at all because she ravaged them to a pulp with her baby fingers. Maybe she was trying to make me some wine all along? I mean Mother's Day is right around the corner and it takes awhile to make wine.

What is it with kids and skins anyways? Well pretty much the outer layer of anything. Skins. Crusts. Their own clothing. They seem to be totally against it. Just as I catch myself zoning out and drifting off into random thoughts for a few minutes, which lets face it parents, sometimes a 5 minute space out is the equivalent to a nap for us, I decide it's probably best to clean up this mushy mess before it starts getting smeared everywhere. I'm sure she felt like she won and staged some sort of toddler takeover on the grape front. However, don't get it twisted kid, I won't be skinning grapes for you. Apple peels and bread crusts are the extent of my accommodations.

The next day while in the produce section at the store she says, "Oh look Mom, grapes!" I ever so casually breeze past them and in my head think.....

Thanks for reminding me to grab some wine.