Let me tell you something about my smallest (and arguably cutest) child. While she is truly a miracle child, having been conceived without the benefit of viable fallopian tubes (according to the operative report, anyway): She’s starting to get on my nerves.
Here’s the latest pattern: Send her (and Little B) to bed at 8:00 p.m. By 8:15, Little B has stopped asking for another drink of water, another opportunity to use the bathroom, and has generally dozed off for the evening. Little A, on the other hand, lies awake in her room for at least another hour, making you think that things are all kosher, and then, sneaks back into the kitchen, in the dark, and when you hear the creaking going on, and ask, “Who’s there?”, you get a whisper-breathy, “Uh, mom…” It was cute for a while, but now it’s starting to get creepy. And no matter how angry you sound when you tell her that she should have been asleep an hour ago, she continues with whatever it is she felt she needed to say. Like this:
“A! You should be asleep! Go back to bed!”
“A! Did you hear me?”
“Um, can I have a drink of water?”
“No, A. You’ve already had water, now go to bed.”
“Can I go potty?”
Of course she can go potty. And no one else in my house asks permission to go pee. She knows it’s not something you have to ASK to do. And we tell her that every time she asks, but she continues to do it every single time.
In fact, she ignores about 90% of what comes out of my mouth. She has an agenda, and she sets about to insure that her agenda is complete, without regard for the rest of the household. She’s getting a little ballsy, too, if you’ll excuse the expression. There’s no other way to put it. For example: Saturday, while
witnesses my parents were at my house, she was sitting on the stupid motorcycle (seriously, you have GOT to remind me to tell you THAT story), and when I told her to get down, she just looked at me in a “Why don’t you make me” kinda way. I told her that if I had to get up, she was going to get an ass whipping. (I am forced to use this term, folks, because it has been burned into my brain from the time I was a small child. I realize it’s politically incorrect, but let’s just keep it real, okay?) And she finally got down, as I was approaching her, she repeated at the top of her lungs whilst giggling: “I don’t want an ass whipping…I don’t want an ass whipping…” I told her not to say that word, as she giggled in response and kept saying it over and over, and I had to chase her down in the yard to spank her. My mom and dad just watched.
She acted this way for about three days straight. Now, she’s on some sort of cyclical trip down from Bad Mountain.
It could be worse, I suppose. She could be like this kid, whom I don’t know personally, since I googled “bad kids” and found her picture. But I know plenty like her.
Or this kid, who bears a striking resemblance (albeit a different color) to my boys:
This morning, I told her to get out of my bathroom, to let me get dressed. “But, mom.” “A, go on, now. Let me get ready for work.” “But, mom.” “What?!” “I love your towel dress, [robe] and your beautiful face.” She’s manipulative, that one. And she’s damn cute on top of it. I guess I’ll keep her. For now.