Somebody has kidnapped my seven year old daughter and replaced her with a creature who believes that every conversation is a debate.
This morning, we had a brief discussion about her backpack. School ends this Thursday and for the last two days, she has arrived home with her pink princess backpack jammed full of workbooks, papers, old art projects and assorted supplies. Clearly, her classroom is being emptied of any trace of the children that inhabited it for the last nine months.
Because I am terminally lazy, the prospect of making her a sack lunch completely overwhelmed me today and I decided to send her with funds to purchase her nibbles from the cafeteria.
"Here is your money. Please put it inside your backpack."
And then, apparently the sky began to fall because right there in the hallway, Olivia had a mini breakdown telling me that her teacher specifically told them that backpacks were no longer allowed at school.
"Well how will you carry your money or your book?" At this point, I was still rational.
Olivia replied that she would walk around for the next five hours with two dollar bills and forty five cents IN HER HANDS.
"Not reasonable," I declared and explained that the teacher probably meant that backpacks were optional, not forbidden. Dylan chimed in with his opinion which happened to agree with my own (at which point the heavens parted and angels began to sing).
And then, Olivia lost her shit. For real.
Stamping feet. Tears. High pitched, hysterical keening. Heaving chest. Clenched fists.
I looked at her in all of her tantrum craziness and made the conscious decision to DISENGAGE when what I really, really wanted to do was open my mouth and scream like the victim in a horror flick.
Instead, I bent down, kissed her and told her to have a great day. "But what about my backpack, Mama?" she asked.
I shrugged and then walked into my bathroom. I heard the garage door close as the children left to walk to the bus stop.
I finished with my morning routine and grabbed the things I would need for work. As I was heading into the garage, Olivia's backpack winked at me from the hall closet.
She is definitely her mother's daughter.
1 comment:
Darn kids are so literal. I'm sure you were right because I've had that same argument with each of my kids more than once. Look at it this way: sooner or later you'll be able to say "I told you so," and get away with it. Just not yet.
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