While driving home after Sammy's speech therapy session last week, Molly fired me as her mother. More specifically, I was fired as her "MEAN mother." I had just explained to Molly that she would not be watching tv that evening nor playing with her favorite doll because of her ridiculous behavior at the therapy office. When we arrived home, she marched to her room, slammed the door, and then reappeared 20 minutes later dragging her pink, princess suitcase and her teenage attitude. She informed her father and me that she was leaving--that we should have never adopted her--that she didn't fit into our family. I informed HER that it was dinner time and that she should put the drama and the suitcase up and join us. After a bit of coaxing and a lot of demanding, she sat down at the table, ate, and forgot that she was ever mad.
Just when I thought it was all over, I was helping her clean up her room a bit when I noticed the pink suitcase tucked in the closet, so I lifted it in order to unpack it and realized that it was quite heavy. I have to admit that I was stuck somewhere between surprise, fear, and confusion when I unzipped it and found our cat tucked inside. Luckily, he wasn't hurt--just a little stunned before he clawed his way out and bolted for the door. My first thought was "Oh my Lord, she's torturing animals" but when I explained to her that she could have actually killed him and she saw how upset I was, she crawled under her bed for a while, then explained to me from the dark cave of her daybed that she loved the cat and that she just wanted to take him with her---she just sort of forgot about him after she packed him and had dinner. Needless-to-say, I don't think she'll do it again nor will the cat LET her like he did the first time.
I've always known that life with Molly would be intense and dramatic--from when she was three years old and she blurted out to her father "You're ruining my life" because he asked her to put on her pajamas one night to stomping away from her friends this afternoon because they wouldn't play the game she wanted them to play and saying "I'm outa here, suckas"--we realize that we have our hands full. Oh, and I haven't even included the boy child and his obstinate little self in this realization. I can't believe we continue to discuss raising a third child....but somehow we always do.
Just when I thought it was all over, I was helping her clean up her room a bit when I noticed the pink suitcase tucked in the closet, so I lifted it in order to unpack it and realized that it was quite heavy. I have to admit that I was stuck somewhere between surprise, fear, and confusion when I unzipped it and found our cat tucked inside. Luckily, he wasn't hurt--just a little stunned before he clawed his way out and bolted for the door. My first thought was "Oh my Lord, she's torturing animals" but when I explained to her that she could have actually killed him and she saw how upset I was, she crawled under her bed for a while, then explained to me from the dark cave of her daybed that she loved the cat and that she just wanted to take him with her---she just sort of forgot about him after she packed him and had dinner. Needless-to-say, I don't think she'll do it again nor will the cat LET her like he did the first time.
I've always known that life with Molly would be intense and dramatic--from when she was three years old and she blurted out to her father "You're ruining my life" because he asked her to put on her pajamas one night to stomping away from her friends this afternoon because they wouldn't play the game she wanted them to play and saying "I'm outa here, suckas"--we realize that we have our hands full. Oh, and I haven't even included the boy child and his obstinate little self in this realization. I can't believe we continue to discuss raising a third child....but somehow we always do.
2 comments:
What's wonderful about this is, "She's so Molly!"
Wow. Makes me want to have one...
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