Drama Mama (fomerly known here as Young Daughter) was quite upset with me this morning. But did I rush to console her? Nope. (You’ll see why in a moment or two.)
Instead, I let her fuss on in the living room without comment or reaction, while I messaged this transcript over to The Father instead, in a ‘you’re missing all the fun here and/or better gird your loins’ news bulletin of sorts (he was to arrive shortly to take both kids for the weekend):
“I feel like you’re a big dragon and I’m a teeny tiny mouse and you’re picking on me”
“but i just don’t want to do what other people tell me to do!”
“why does this always have to happen to me? me always getting all bossed around and always having to do what other people say.”
“right now, i feel like my heart is broken because you two are mean to me (her brother was trying to intervene, with dismal results) and i don’t like that on Thanksgiving and you don’t get to boss me around all of the Thanksgivings”
and the kicker:
“you should feel ashamed of yourself and sorry for me because I’m so upset right now”
What was my heinous offense?
I asked her to pick up the books scattered around the floor in her bedroom before she left for the weekend. Several times. And yeah – I probably did so in less than dulcet tones once or twice near the end there. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is proof positive that Young Daughter’s nickname around here – Drama Mama – is well-earned.
What am I most thankful for right now? Drama Mama is with her father for the next few days.
(Yes, she eventually calmed down and apologized. Yes, the books did get picked up. And no, I don’t usually get lectures like this from a six-year-old, nor do I normally react so calmly to them. But in this instance, letting her run out of steam seemed like the wisest course…plus, I thought I could get a blog post out of her righteous indignation later…)
* I am, without question, The Meanest Mother in the Whole Wide World (scroll down a bit here for the backstory…) I consider it an honor and a privilege, I do…