My niece and middle nephew have been staying with my parents this week. . . kids were supposed to go back to their parents today, but this is my brother and SIL we're talking about, so that didn't happen. Mom had a previous engagement with friends tonight, and my dad had a work thing to attend, so she asked me to watch them.
Oh, and to pick up some popsicles on the way--must contain cherry and orange flavors.
The kids were napping when Mom left, so I had to wake them up about a half hour after she was out the door. Niece would not budge--but I was finally able to entice her with a muffin (also pronounced "mussin" when you are four and a half) from the batch of blueberry ones the kids had made with Mom-Mom earlier in the day.
We played and watched a video, then they scarfed down PB & J sandwiches for dinner. Apparently they'd been eating chicken pot pie a few nights in a row, and Niece insisted she must have some of that, too. She's going to be a foot taller by summer at this rate.
After dinner, we played some more, and then they started asking about watching a Thomas video (pronounced "bideo" when you are three). I said they knew Mom-Mom's rule: no video until they picked up their toys. "But we're still playing," they tried to argue.
Enter the leverage: popsicles. I told them I would give popsicles out when cleanup was done. Middle Nephew sprang into action and became a cleaning-up machine. Niece was still off in airy-fairy land, until I said, "Well, I can give Middle Nephew a popsicle, because I see him cleaning up. I'm not sure about Niece yet, though."
That got her going. She was even kinda authoritative about it--what went into which container. The rug finally was visible again.
Two orange popsicles later--one for each--they were happy as clams.
I can't thank you enough, popsicle maker people.