And that's why we should never get takeout.

Last night we got home and Grampa was in the back yard working on the tree house.  My boys are really lucky to have a grampa that is A) willing to build a treehouse and B) skilled enough to actually do it.  And the tree house is coming along nicely.  We have a platform, two walls, a baby swing and a rope swing.

Urban loves the rope swing.  Had I know that hanging a big rope from a tree would produce so many hours of quiet, I would have done it years ago.  Of course, years ago he probably would have killed himself on it, but that's beside the point.

Anyway, we hung out outside for a while as Grampa finished up.  Urban swung on his rope and sawed some random pieces of wood, then helped Grampa carry tools back to his car.  When we went in the house, I asked my mom what sounded good for dinner.  Chinese takeout was the answer.  To be more specific, David Fong's Chinese takeout.  So, I went upstairs and changed clothes and Mom called in our order.  Urban decided he really wanted to come with me.  He enjoys riding along to the Chinese takeout places.  He likes to compare shades of red and the size of the fishes in the tanks.  He also has a lot of comments about the various smells emitted from said locations.

On our way we stopped and picked up some 7Up to have with dinner.  I decided he could have a treat of soda for no real reason at al – just fun.  We pulled up to David Fong's around 6PM and discovered there was but a single parking spot left. - at the complete opposite end of the lot from the pick up door.  We trudged across the lot and through doors.  Urban was impressed by the smells, the fish were the biggest he's ever seen and the red interior was suitably dark per his tastes.  David Fong's is a winner in Urban's eyes.

We left and returned home immediately sitting down at the table to eat.  The food was fantastic.  Urban cleaned his plate.  Beringer had 3rds and Mom and I were delighted with the sauces and meats.  All in all, Grade A takeout.  We all sat back full and content.  Then, I looked at the boys – dripping with chow mein sauce and sticky with rice bits – and shooed them straight into the tub.  We scrubbed and splashed and played, and soon it was 7:00.

I got Beringer out and let Urban play a while longer while I sang baby-boy to sleep.  I came back and got Urban out of the tub and into his jammies.

"Do I have to go to bed now?!!"  he whined.

"No.  You still have half an hour.  What do you want to do?"

"Play pink monsters."  Urban has inherited Brett's collection of little plastic wrestling figures called M.U.S.C.L.E. Men.  They have been endless hours of creative fun for Urban.  He lovingly calls them his Little Pink Monsters.

So, downstairs we went.  I built intricate towers out of Jenga blocks and Urban populated them with Little Pink Monsters.  We played for a solid half hour, then I said, "Urban, we have 5 minutes until we brush teeth."

The room fell silent.  He face turned an alarming shade of red and he screamed, "MAMA!  NO!  I DON'T WANT TO BE DONE!  I HAVEN'T PLAYED AT ALL!!  THIS IS WHY WE SHOULD NEVER GET TAKEOUT!  YOU SHOULD JUST COOK AT OUR HOUSE!!!  STUPID TAKEOUT!!"

Whoa.  Really?

I tried to reason with him – Cooking takes just as long or longer.  We had a nice dinner.  It tasted good.  Pretty much whatever I could think of in the moment I blurted out at him, but he was having none of it.  He just glared at me.  Me and my dumb Chinese takeout.

Oh well.  What's one more night of bedtime freak outs in the grand scheme of things, right?  And it was worth it.

Confucius say:  "When anger rises, think of the consequences."  

I am fully willing to accept these consequences for some seriously delicious egg foo young.