The boys have learned, over the last few years, that there are times Mommy absolutely cannot be interrupted, unless there's fire, poop, puke, or blood. I don't invoke this very often, which means it's usually quite effective when I do. Over the course of the four or so years I've been using it, though, the interruption criteria hadn't been met once.
Thing 1 came up to me yesterday and poked me, while in the midst of marking some particularly detailed term papers. I looked at him, then asked, "Is there fire?"
"No, Mommy."
"Is there poop?"
"No, Mommy. No poop."
"Is there puke?"
"Eww ... no, Mommy. That's gross."
"Is there blood?" I asked, voice rising a bit, having gotten through the first three criteria without a positive answer.
"Right here, Mommy," he said, showing me his blood-covered finger, sliced open on one of his toys somehow. I never did figure out exactly what happened.
Oops ... I cleaned him up, apologized for my tone of voice, then had a talk with him about what to do. Now he knows that not only can he interrupt me, but that he can also tell me, right off the bat, *why* he's interrupting me. Oy vey.
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