"Sometimes being the perfect parent just isn't worth the blood on the floor."
My kids were playing outside today while I was inside mopping (side story: Little C now calls this "shocking," because he once remarked on the fact that I was mopping, and I replied, "Yes--shocking, I know." He makes his shocked face EVERY TIME I mop now. A regular comedian, that kid).
So anyway, they're playing outside, and I'm alternately mopping and running to the window to make sure everybody is a) still there and b) not bleeding. During one of the mopping cycles (of course), Big C comes running in, screaming because he has apparently disturbed an ant pile and he is terrified his brother is going to get bitten.
After my initial "aww" moment at the realization that he's being so considerate of his brother, I panic a little. Little C is still having fun outside, but I need to get him inside, because if there is an active ant pile in the yard, he will inevitably step in it. But how to accomplish this? Explaining the possibility of an ant-pile attack is not going to fly. He will hear "let's go inside," and that's it.
High drama will ensue, and I don't have the energy for drama right now.
So, a light-bulb goes off, and I do what any
good reasonable parent would do.
"C!" I call. "Want a snack?"
AND THAT IS HOW YOU DEAL WITH CRISES AFTER THREE CHILDREN.