Tupperware

Okay, Half Buck is about to turn 11. I can tell, because he is suddenly treating me like I am extremely stupid. When anyone who really knows me knows the kids simply stole most my brain cells while inutero and are using them against me. But I do know my Tupperware. Sister Mary 5 even complimented me on it. She's the one whose hubby wants to bury her in Tupperware since she owns so much of it. She has the good stuff. You know me, I have the generics, the butter tubs, and the still surviving after 19 years of use stuff. Quite a hodgepodge. So, anyway, Half Buck is supposed to be putting away the food and clearing the table. This is a race against time (read: Mite). You must do this chore before he is set free from the highchair or the clean up need increases by factor of 10. So I want him to do it, but I want it done right... the first time... with no extra plastic to wash because the chicken didn't fit. Which means I'm being hover mom. No really, I'm just hear to teach and assist, he is almost 11, he can do this. But that lid is not going to fit. Yeah it will.....no, it won't, yeah it will. Okay, well, anyway, I don't think that container is big enough, yeah it is....no, it isn't, yeah it is. You get the idea and I'm sure you probably know who was right (unless you are 11). More dishes (that's okay, it is Buck's night for that chore). But my problem is: I know I can't download a song to his mp3 and I don't even know what music is cool. I accept that I don't know how boys are wearing their hair. I apparently have no idea what kind of coat is needed on any given day. I don't even feel confident helping with math homework. But I know my Tupperware! Can we credit me a high score on this one drawer in the kitchen or must my child think I'm an idiot in every facet of life as we head into the tweens - again. When face book comes out with a Tupper quiz, I will kick butt (Sister Mary 5 is the only one who can beat me I'm sure, if we can get her on face book). From April 2009