Ours is not to reason why, ours is to do or die; is how the quote goes I believe. I may not be fighting a war in India, but today is one of those days where I find myself dealing with my own brand of domestic terrorism. Olivia and i spent most of yesterday afternoon tracing her body on butcher paper, cutting pictures out of magazines and gluing them to the paper, and finally labelling all the body parts in Spanish. We enjoyed ourselves, I had that momentary flash of feeling like a good parent, and she actually was excited to show it to Daddy when he got home.
Today she tore the thing to shreds. I'm pretty sure it was just to see what happened. Sigh. Then she proceeded to just dump her lunch on herself and the floor, just because. She is still not asleep, I can hear her in her room making ambulance noises to herself.
I need either a candy bar or a stiff drink and I have neither. At least she kicked all of the other kids' asses in Spanish today. I am not above bragging at this point.
Tuesday
Kipling in action
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2 comments:
No stiff drink at your house? that is a crime in my book!
This post reminds me of the time I called home one day while Olivia was refusing to nap, and I got to describe her as "the no-nap insurgent waging battle from the noth-west corner of the house."
I'd make you a stiff drink if it wasn't time to go to bed. Maybe tomorrow. After all, we did just buy one of those shot-measuring gizmos, so now I won't have to guess when I'm pouring your margarita.
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