Christmas time...
A time of joy. A time of laughter. A time for decorating Christmas cookies. Oh wait- that is unless you have a daughter who decided that instead of decorating her cookie nicely at Grandma's house with friends over for dinner she was going to throw a fit at me for not being able to do the sprinkles by herself. Which then turned into a bigger fit when I pulled her off the table to go sit in time out. Which then turned into a monsterous fit when the last fit didn't cease and I decided to bring her to her room at our house so I could talk to her calmly. Which then turned into a mega-ginormous screaming at the top of her lungs and kicking and scratching and hitting fit when I had to pause to get my shoes on and she realized we were leaving the house to go home. I walked out the door with her slung on my hips trying to hold her flailing, slapping hands away from my face as everyone watched in silence since her screaming had stopped all conversation in the room. I then had the joy of cleaning up her icing puke that landed all over her bed when her monsterous screaming induced a monsterous coughing fit and vomit ensued.
So instead of joyfully laughing at Craig who I'm sure right now is trying to hork down one of his world famous ten-inches-of-frosting-on-a-cookie cookie, I'm listening to Chloe scream at the top of her lungs in her pajamas in bed (she's so mad she's clapping her hands as hard as she can. Have't seen a fit like this for a LONG time, I thought we were through with them....) and blogging about it. Chloe, I hope when you have a four year old drama queen yourself that you read back on this and your appreciation for your mother will increase...at least more so than it is now. Love you forever. :-)
1 comment:
YOu're such a good mom:) Seriously. The fact that you can look through it and know that she doesn't hate you...that's awesome:)
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