Tea, Anyone?

One night last week, everything seemed to be going wrong. You know the kind of evening I’m talking about, right? Mommy’s head ached. Daddy was grumpy. Hyperactivity swarmed around Ava. Poor little Hudson was feeling clingy. Oh, yeah, and supper had to be cooked.

Somehow—despite the shrieking, crying, and grumbling (and that was just me, ha ha)—I managed to get supper on the table and everyone in place for our usual family dinner. Still, the uncharacteristic negativity continued to plague us. Hudson was displeased with his carrot meal, choosing to play with it rather than eat it. Ava had a negative comment about every variety of food on her plate. Even my husband seemed unusually snarky; I was quite certain he’d rather be eating in front of the TV instead of trading barbs with the rest of us.

And me? Generally I fight such negativism with sunny smiles and warm platitudes dished out between bites. However, this was a challenge; it required every iota of optimism I possessed. In fact, I was just mentally congratulating myself for not losing my cool when Ava made some rude comment about the same time Hudson started wailing and banging his spoon against the high chair tray. I, however, barely noticed any of this because my eyes were glued to the steam suddenly shooting from Erik’s ears. Uh-oh.

Hudson: (*^&*^%&*%&^

Ava: SHUT UP, HUDSON!

Hudson: *($%&^%^*&^*%

Mommy: All right, everyone, calm down….

Erik:

Nothing. Only steam. Until suddenly he hoisted his glass of tea above his head, widened his eyes to the size of our dinner plates, and proceeded to slam said glass onto the table with all the force of a gladiator. The noise alone was enough to rivet myself and my children into total silence. He had our utter attention. We stared open-mouthed.

It was about this time we realized the tea was gone—completely gone—from his glass. In his desperate moment of frustration, he had failed to realize the result of slamming one’s full tea glass onto the table. Where had the tea gone??

As Ava, Hudson, and I finally regained control of our senses, we realized the answer to that question: It had rained down on Erik’s head, trailed along his face, pooled in his lap, soaked his socks, and puddled on the floor. It was everywhere!

Silence. Erik surveyed the mess. The rest of us waited for the other shoe to fall. Boy, did it!

Ava: Well, Daddy, I guess that’s the last tea you get tonight!

I looked at Ava. Hudson looked at me. Erik stared silently at all of us. And then?

LAUGHTER! What else? Who knew spilled tea could totally transform a kitchen table? For the rest of that meal, we had smiles on our faces. Thanks, ESmith, for that. And for mopping up spilled tea while chuckling.