Nuts are a pain. Also: three year olds.

It’s before 5pm, and I just poured myself a glass of wine. Happy hump day?

After Arthur and I picked Julian up from school this afternoon, I took the boys to a cute little bakery in Prospect Heights. I asked the woman behind the counter what was nut-free, and she recommended the pumpkin bread. She even went to the back to confirm it was safe. So we sat down with a big-ass coffee and some delicious pumpkin bread, and I cut off two pieces. I gave Julian the first one and was about to give Arthur the second piece when I saw that it was full of nuts. Like literally, full of nuts. Walnuts, the worst of all nuts as far as Arthur is concerned.

I yanked the bread out of Julian’s hand. The bakery woman felt bad and gave us a couple of things that were definitely nut-free, but man I was shaken. I had to hold back the tears. I mean, my child could have stopped breathing. If I hadn’t given Julian the first piece…If I hadn’t given it one more look… Nuts.

And why are three year olds such jerks? We had to leave the cafe because Julian wouldn’t stop screaming after he didn’t get his way, and he screamed all the way to the subway stop. Brief screaming break to fool his mother into thinking he a) had regained his common sense or b) lost his voice.

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Then more screaming as we walked home from the subway. Because he wasn’t allowed to take shit away from his brother. Because his jacket was unzipped and then because it was zipped. Because he had to carry his beloved umbrella while meanwhile I carried a bag, a lunchbox, and a 27+ pound toddler babe. Also a terribly guilty conscience for almost accidentally nutting my baby. (I looked up “nutting” and I like this meaning much better.)

Planned for the remainder of the afternoon: no nuts. More wine. Early bedtime for all.

(P.S. I just hid my wine glass from the UPS man, which I’m pretty sure is a bad sign.)

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