I love my oldest daughter dearly, but she's at that age, you know? That age that's sometimes the best age EVER and it's so wonderful, and other times...it's that age that's so hard to enjoy.
Yesterday I got lunch ready (hot dogs and cheese cubes, a perfect representation of my kitchen skills) and called her up from her Barbie house downstairs.
"What are we having?"
She comes to the table and sees the cheese cubes.
"Yes, and cheese."
"But Mommy..." *ugh, here it comes. I'm so sick of the whining.* "But Mommy, I want a stick!"
I am so annoyed. Why does she care if it's string cheese (sometimes referred to as cheese sticks) or cheese cubes? It's cheese! It's all cheese! So I put on my best calm-but-very-frustrated voice.
"Lillian, it's making Mommy very frustrated that you whine about everything lately. Why can't you come to the table and say, 'Wow, Mom! Thanks for the hot dogs and cheese! This looks great!'? We are having cheeses cubes today, not string cheese. And I don't want to hear anymore whining about it. Do you understand?"
And she is so sweet. She looks at me with a silly little smile and says, "Mommy, you don't understand me!"
What? what does she mean? and why is she smiling like that?
"Mommy, I just mean that I want a stick! to poke my cheese!"
"oh, a toothpick?"
"yes! I was just asking for a toothpick! You didn't understand me Mommy!" (HUGE smile. She's not even the slightest bit mad or even annoyed that I freaked out for nothing. and I am embarrassed.)
and the apology begins....
Help me to be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry.