This morning Chloe woke up happy as could be, she ran into the living room, said Good Morning, gave me a hug and requested chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast. No problem, I can do that, we survived to Friday (who would've guessed?)! As I began to make them she asked me for Daddy’s iPad since she saw T was playing mine. I went to go get it and *gasp* Daddy was using it.
Oh the humanity!!! Chloe was beyond mad, she wanted that iPad and she wanted it RIGHT NOW! I know because she screamed it over and over. Then she switched to yelling “I JUST CAN”T HELP IT!”, what she couldn’t help I am not quite sure, but it was obviously outside her control.
After about 5 minutes of flopping and screaming in the hall she realized that her efforts were not working so she came into the dining room to ensure I could hear her howls of discontent.
“I HATE HOUSES! THEY ARE STUPID AND THEY ARE UG-A-LY! I NEVER EVER WANT TO LIVE IN A HOUSE AGAIN!!!”
Seriously? I mean I knew today was dress-as-what-you-want-to-be-when-you-grow-up day at school so apparently I am sending her as a hobo?
“Chloe, what do you want if you don’t like houses?”
“I WANT TO LIVE OUTSIDE! HOUSES ARE STUPID!”
“Then go outside. I’ll bring your breakfast to you”
“NOOOOOOOO!!! IT IS COLD!!!”
She ran off into her bedroom, throwing the pillows and blankets off her bed all the while screaming how much she hated pillows, how stupid blankets are, how socks are the bane her existence, etc. After about 10 minutes of that I decided enough was enough and she needed to eat breakfast which I am sure was stupid and ug-a-ly by that point.
When I tried to open her door she was flopped against it so I had to tell her to move so I can open the door. She huffed and puffed and ran into the closet and yelled at me “GET OUT!!! YOU ARE MEAN!”
I did not get out. I sat in there and finally managed to calm her down, attempting to explain that she can’t take the iPad from someone if they are using it. She continued to sob, sniffle and whine but the screaming had ceased (I think only because her throat was parched from screeching for 20 minutes straight).
I set her at the kitchen table with her pancakes and juice and she took a bite and within seconds burst into tears.
“Chloe, what is wrong now?”
“I miss Mr. D!!”
You have got to be kidding me, Mr. D is my cat that died 18 months ago. She is only 3, that is literally half her lifetime. When he died my husband had him cremated since I didn’t want to bury him so I keep him in my room in his little kitty urn.
“I can bring him in here, he’s in my room” I said, only half joking.
She turned to me, tears streaming down her cheeks and nodded “Ok”
I set his urn on the table and Chloe continued to cry. T, being the good big sister said “Cwo-e, it’s OK, take a deep bweafases and cawm down. He is still here in our hawts.”
So my daughters ate their breakfast with a cremated cat on the table. Hey, I'll do whatever it takes to make it through the day, it was only 7 am and I had a long way to go.
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