Well, I shouldn't really say that...they've always kind of sucked. But recently she's had moments when I swear I'm living with Helen Keller. KID.HEARS.NOTHING. And Etienne and I have been getting a bit tired of repeating everything six-thousand times at volume levels ranging from speaking voice to shouting-at-your-drunk-friend-in-a-bar-while-a-cover-band-plays-Highway-to-Hell.
And don't get me started on the attitude. When she finally does hear, she grumbles...complains....whines about how SHE DOES EVERYTHING AROUND THE HOUSE...and WHAT AM I, YOUR MACHINE??? Trust me, we are cracking down.
Anyway.
Etienne had to work late this evening, so I was on my own. I was about to dish up supper.
Addie had been jammed into her highchair and tied down, and the table was set.
All that remained was for Eva to shuffle to the table and assemble herself in front of the trough.
Eva: "Can I put on this tattoo?"
Me: "Not right now, we are going to eat. After."
Silence while I dish up food.
Five seconds go by.
I turn around and see Eva with a sopping wet washcloth, cheerily applying the tattoo.
Eva: " Look! I put on my tattoo!"
Me: "What did I say about putting on the tattoo?"
Eva: "Um..."
Me: "Did you hear me say NOT RIGHT NOW?"
Eva: "Um..."
Me: "DID YOU HEAR ME SAY NOT RIGHT NOW?"
Eva: "Yes"
Me: "You heard me. You heard me say NOT RIGHT NOW"
Eva: "Yes"
SO. I quietly took the wet washcloth...and I scrubbed that blasted tattoo right off her arm (it was still wet so it came off easily).
Eva was FURIOUS. Beyond furious. She spat fire at me and then tore half my face off and spat it out beneath the highchair.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
Etienne had to work late this evening, so I was on my own. I was about to dish up supper.
Addie had been jammed into her highchair and tied down, and the table was set.
All that remained was for Eva to shuffle to the table and assemble herself in front of the trough.
Eva: "Can I put on this tattoo?"
Me: "Not right now, we are going to eat. After."
Silence while I dish up food.
Five seconds go by.
I turn around and see Eva with a sopping wet washcloth, cheerily applying the tattoo.
Eva: " Look! I put on my tattoo!"
Me: "What did I say about putting on the tattoo?"
Eva: "Um..."
Me: "Did you hear me say NOT RIGHT NOW?"
Eva: "Um..."
Me: "DID YOU HEAR ME SAY NOT RIGHT NOW?"
Eva: "Yes"
Me: "You heard me. You heard me say NOT RIGHT NOW"
Eva: "Yes"
SO. I quietly took the wet washcloth...and I scrubbed that blasted tattoo right off her arm (it was still wet so it came off easily).
Eva was FURIOUS. Beyond furious. She spat fire at me and then tore half my face off and spat it out beneath the highchair.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
YOU TOOK IT OFFFFF!!!
YOU TOOK MY TATTOOOOOOO!!!
"YOU! TOOK! MY! LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFE!!!"
"YOU! TOOK! MY! LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFE!!!"
Geez Eva...DRAMA MUCH???
Can't wait for thirteen...and battles over real tattoos.
GOOD TIMES AHEAD.
You'll find me hiding in my nice clean purse.
1 comment:
Hey Kris, how have you been? Love your blog - hilarious! Makes me feel better about just having furkids! I went to dinner and a musical comedy show with some friends from work the other night called Il Dago (about immigrant children growing up in Australia, with a funny perspective on their lives and their parents' quirks as compared to anglo Aussies). The last comedian had 2 'Emo' teenage children and said how annoyed he gets when his childless friend offers parenting advice since her dog is 'just like a child'...He said "unless your cockerspaniel rings you up at 3am drunk out of his mind, mumbling something about needing a ride home, and then calls you 'just a useless sperm donor' when you refuse, then - no, your dog is not just like a child!" So I will not offer you any parenting advice, but if you ever feel like indulging in some girl talk - give me a ring. I'd love to hear how your job is going!
Love Kyla
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