Friday, July 16, 2004

Bad Mommy, No Link Button

This blog is now renamed "Travels in Booland," after Sarah-boo, which is what we used to call her until she put a stop to it. In this blog I get to call Sarah whatever I want, but in real life we are commanded to only call her "Sarah." Just plain Sarah. This morning I called her "bunny" and she snapped at me. "Don't call me bunny! It makes me think you think I am something to play with on Halloween. Call me by my regular name." We're not even allowed to call her "sweetie."

Actually, Sarah has snapped at me a lot in the past couple of days. Here are some things I've done to offend her lately:

1. I came 5 minutes too early with the car to pick her up at a rendezvous with RW. [She screamed and screamed until I pulled over and refused to drive any more until she could calm herself down. Though she did say "Thank you," unprompted, in a gulpy kind of way when I gave her her sweatshirt to wipe her eyes with.]
2. I neglected to have anything for her to drink during said [10-minute] car trip.
3. I took the video out of the VCR myself instead of letting her do it: "Did you forget and think I was a baby?!?"
4. I insisted that she didn't need a band-aid for a mildly-banged thumb, just ice and a kiss. ["But it HURTS!"]
5. I stepped on her tiara and broke some of the comb-things off of the side, and then forgot to tell her about it until she noticed several days later. I do actually feel pretty bad about that. On the other hand, the tiara was just lying in the middle of the living room floor.
6. I told her that if she didn't eat her [day-old] pizza, I would eat it. [She wanted to save it for herself until some hypothetical time when she might want it. We end up with a lot of shrivelled-looking plates of leftovers that way.]

I'm sure there's more, but I've blocked it. I just can't remember all the terrible things I do.

To be fair, though, she does have inner resources beyond complaining. She was very mature about occasionally letting me jump one of her pieces when we played checkers this morning. And when she wants me to stop reading and pay attention to her she's usually pretty polite about it. At one point a few weeks ago she grabbed a nearby piece of paper, stuck it in the book, chirped "Here's a bookmark for you, Mommy, so you can stop reading!' and deftly took the book out of my hands and put it out of immediate reach before I entirely understood what was going on.

Oh, we're not going down to Eugene this weekend after all. I'm kind of grumpy about that.

Also: there are no links or italics on this post because Blogger took the buttons away. Not too happy about that either.


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