Does anybody remember this clip from The Office where Andy loses his temper and punches a wall?
Who am I kidding? Everyone remembers that part. I'm pretty sure the Man watched it on repeat one week, laughing until he cried. Since then, it's become a catch phrase in our family.
So this week when I had to change Tiny's diaper and he dissolved into a puddle of tears while screaming hysterically, I turned to the Man, lifted my eyebrow, and said, "That was an over reaction." And we both had a good laugh. Which was nice, because sometimes Tiny's three year old-ness just makes me want to pull my hair out, not laugh. And that's not good because honestly, there's not a lot of hair left on my head thanks to Bruiser. That kid has grabby hands.
Then a couple hours later, when Littles stubbed his toe and screamed bloody murder, all the Man and I had to do was look at each other and we knew that the other one was thinking: That was an over reaction. And nothing makes me happier than an inside joke with my husband, so that was nice too.
It worked again when Bee pitched a fit over not getting Tiny's germ infested water bottle. Tiny has a stomach bug--I would prefer him not to share said bug with anyone other than Bruiser, who gave it to him originally. Bee doesn't care. All water bottles should be hers, except for the one I actually gave her.
And then when I lost my temper at an unnamed child for flooding the bathroom and busted out the classic "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!?!" before I remembered that three year olds don't always really think, I thought, "See? That was an over reaction too."
And then when Bruiser shrieked hysterically because he wanted... oh, I don't remember, but something, which is typical... I realized that almost everything in our family is an over reaction these days so...
All that to say, our new family motto is: That was an Over Reaction.
Other people can have more sophisticated family mottos, you know, family mottos that actually inspire a family to greatness or kindness or spiritual growth, but for now, this works for us. All we need is the ability to laugh and regain perspective when what we really want is to pack the kids in a box and mail them to Nana.
Which would be, as you know, an over reaction.
I think I'm going to cross-stitch our new motto, possibly accompanied with a made up family crest, and hang it over our imaginary mantle.