Thursday, July 24, 2014

We all have our days

In the ultimate display of defiance, Penny decides that not only does she reject hair-combing and ponytails, she also wants her actual hair off of her head, too.

How do you let your mom know that you reject your own hair? 
1. Grab a chunk of your own hair, pull it violently yelling "take it out! take it out!".  Do not let go.
2. Cry hysterically because it hurts when someone pulls your hair that hard and won't let go. 
3. Hug your mom to feel better, still angry and grumpy about the owie on your head and that your hair is still there.  Also, wipe boogers all over your mom's everything.
4. Repeat.  For fifteen minutes.

When I finally convince Penny to stop yanking her own hair because that's what was making her head hurt, it's time for lunch.

"I don't do lunch." she tells the kitchen.  
"I don't do lunch." she tells the door to our bedroom.
"I don't do lunch." she tells Apollo and Luna.
(and yells at Apollo because the tennis ball in his mouth is her toy. Also, cries about this.)
"I don't do lunch." she tells the wood floor at the base of the refridgerator.
"I don't do lunch." she tells every other corner of the house and every couch pillow and every toy, in case they didn't hear her the first 63 times.

Got it.  Penny doesn't do lunch.  She's not hungry.  She's mad at the world and she certainly doesn't want food.

"I hear you Penny.  So, I'll eat my lunch by myself and I'll just put this plate of food here in case you change your mind."

"No!  I don't!  I doat!  I doat!  I doattttttttttt do lunch. -- pause -- I like oranges."

"Would you like to join me for some oranges that are here at the lunch table?"

We both proceed to eat our entire lunches.  
Also, Penny tells me "Mommy, that's exactly what I wanted."

Huh, I would have never known.

She doesn't want me to wipe her hands or face before leaving the table so we're back to complete meltdown status.

"I need Tylenol." she tells me between sobs.

So that's pretty much been my day.  
She's teething again, perhaps.  
Or just having a terrible, no good, very bad time.  I don't fault her for either, we all have our days.

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