Wednesday, June 3, 2015

The Post Office

I know you guys are already familiar with Popeye (5) and Juju (almost 4).  Moving forward you will probably start hearing a lot of stories about their little sister, Gus (18 months).

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.


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.


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