We have to go to the post office more often than I would like. It seems we are always sending something somewhere. I avoid it when I can. It is always chaotic. Somebody tries to escape. A few end up crying. Boxes are pulled down. It is a good day if I can keep Gus from the card rack. I hate, hate, HATE going to the post office. Here are two exchanges from today's venture.
Background information for the first tidbit: Gus responds to questions in one of four ways. Her responses are always, "pizza," "Popeye, Juju," "thank you," or "no." If she means yes, she still says no.
Me: Okay guys. Remember what we talked about? We are going to be patient and well-behaved in the post office. You have notebooks to color in so this should be easy. Gus, are you going to be good?
Gus: No.
Popeye: Oh my goodness! She told the truth! Gus, we are so proud of you for being honest even when it is hard! Good job!
Juju: I knew you could do hard things, Gus!
Gus: (Big, confused smile) Thank you!
The kids showered Gus with hugs and kisses. The baby's honesty did not impress me as much as it impressed the other girls.
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Juju struggled while I addressed boxes because "the floor is dirty and there is nowhere to sit."
Postmaster: Hello, young lady. Would you like a sticker? You are being so good!
Juju: Sure. You have a very nice beard, but maybe you should get some benches in here for next time.
Postmaster: Haha! Do you not have a place to sit?
Juju: No, but I still like your beard, though, and I hope you have a nice day. And I accidentally colored on the counter.
