No. No, don’t save the drama for your mama. DOES NOT WANT.
So, yesterday morning my precious, PRECIOUS child woke up at 6am. So okay, she was a little cranky by 8am, I think. There was a moment during breakfast which was definitely not a high point for her where she tried to dash her bowl off the table in a fit of rage. My catlike reflexes, while not completely preventing my floor from getting a coating of milk and Fruit Loops, did manage to prevent my bowl from shattering.
(the people that have played volleyball with me, or any sport at all for that matter, are laughing at the idea of me having catlike reflexes right now. Yuck it up, ladies, and lets move on.)
So, I sent her to her room. Well. WELL. The nerve. Let me tell you.
First, she spent a good five, ten minutes wailing about how she wanted her papa. Because mama is a villain, doncha know. THEN she came out of her room and stood beside me, kind of sniffle-whimpering. “Are you going to be good now?” I challenged. “NO. I’m looking for my papa!” The girl is nothing if but honest. Back to her room.
Eventually she apologized and was allowed out of her room. (Fairly certain that apology was hunger-driven.) She ended the drama with a flourish by taking a picture of Chris off the fridge and wandering around the house with it mournfully. Let’s not forget, she also managed to wind up talking to him on the phone and wailed unintelligibly at him. (For the most part. “Mama’s MEAN!” was definitely in there a few times.)
Suffice it to say my two year old is a wee bit melodramatic. My friends were quick to crack jokes about that, pondering where she could have gotten that trait from. Something about me promising to stab my husband in the face if the blizzard kept up and continued to prevent him from going to work. But listen, I will lock you up with your husband unexpectedly on a Monday when he’s got nothing to do and is bored and follows you around poking you and hugging you and asking what you’re doing and what’s for supper and can we have creamy chicken soup instead even though you’re five seconds away from putting dinner on the table? But listen, the blizzard ended and he went back to work. The end. Oh and he raved about what I did make for dinner when he stopped trying to make me stab him long enough to put it in his mouth. So, we’re still happily married, nobody is dead, and when Chris got home Nicole flung her arms around his leg and then spent the evening talking his ear off.