On Being High Maintenance...

No, not me.  I do not consider myself "high maintenance", although I do have a few OCD tendencies, but that's not high maintenance, right?

I'm talking about this child of mine.

With her big hair and her little body and her huge personality and her very loud voice. She reminds me of a cartoon character; which one? I don't know. I do know that she is the head boss in charge, yelling at all of her slaves; her slaves including her brothers and sister and her parents.

I wonder if she thinks in that very smart and too-big-for-her-body-head of hers that we are her puppets and she is holding the strings; scream loudly enough and we will do anything she wishes. Her demands met at the drop of her pink tassled hat.

Is it because she's the baby? Is it because I ate too much ice cream late at night when I was pregnant with her? Does one have to do with the other? Probably not.

I have overheard the other kids when she's not getting what she wants when she wants it, meaning right now!.
Just give it to her so she won't be so loud. and Just move so she'll stop screaming. And I think to myself why is she so much more important than them that they won't just say no to her? Maybe they just want the noise to stop.

At the ripe old age of not-quite-two, she has been in the naughty corner more times than I can count. She is a tiny destroyer of all things good and even better. She broke my glasses and then my heart after she served her time and said sorry in her little girl voice and bearhugged my head. Now when I put on my taped-up glasses, I think of those puppy dog eyes and my heart melts a little as I think to myself, man are we in trouble.

And by we, I mean all of us, the world wrapped around her tiny, sticky finger.

I see killer tantrums in my future.

She can't get away with being the puppetmaster forever...

even if she is a really cute one.