The Family had a bad morning Wednesday. B-A-D bad. It started out nicely enough. As I returned home from my run, I saw that The Kidling’s light was on. That ought have been my first clue, as an early-to-rise kidling is often the unhappiest type of kidling.
But she fooled me.
I walked upstairs to say good morning and found her playing nicely with a toy. She had my bathrobe next to her and told me she had wanted to bring it to me when she woke up, but she couldn’t find me. Sweet, no?
Those kidling types can be a tricky bunch.
Shortly thereafter, all hell broke loose. I have no recollection of what set her off, but experience tells me I probably dared to utter the only offensive “n” word The Kidling knows: NO. What happened next is a bit fuzzy. There was some conversation about hurrying and following direction, some refusal to follow said directions, and a little talking back sprinkled in for good measure.
Mix it all up to yield a big consequence.
I hate to tell you all what I did, as I fear you will think I am a total monster. You see, we aren’t spankers, so that wasn’t an option. We were plum out of time, so there was no way a time out could be used. Because kidlings operate in the here and now, threatening trouble later on in the day would have been useless. And, of course, there is no way I would have remembered it anyway.
So I threatened to throw away the rest of her birthday cupcakes leftover from the day before at school. No, really. I did. I was sure, dear readers, that she would clean up her act.
But she didn’t.
And I threw those delicious cupcakes right into the garbage can.
Crying commenced immediately. Tears, screaming, flailing: the whole nine yards. We left for preschool and she was still crying. Drove down the street: still crying. Got to school: you guessed it. Crying.
So The Parents went to work and tried to pretend that wretched morning had never happened. It almost worked. Then we came home. An uneventful evening of general good-natured behavior by The Kidling followed. Then she took a break to use the toilet.
Are you wondering where this is all headed? You should be.
The Kidling bopped out of the bathroom to tell us something that was
not at all very important. She, of course, did so before bothering to pull up her pants. I told her to pull up her underwear and her pants and wash up before coming to tell her story, and she giggled. That’s when I noticed.
The Mama: Where are your underwear?
The Kidling: I didn’t wear underwear the whole day! (bends over to show me her bare bum)
The Mama: (suppresses a giggle) How did you forget your underwear? Tomorrow you need to wear your underwear.
The Kidling: Okay… Maybe I was too busy getting bossed around.