It took until day three for me to break. We'd had a fabulous day at the park. The girls were relatively good, didn't throw too much sand and apologized when they needed to. It was time to leave and head home when I lost it.Emma is riding her scooter toward the van and in my head I think, "she needs to put it down before she scratches the car." I CALMLY ask her to put her scooter behind the car so that I can put it in the trunk. She doesn't listen. I repeat; "Please put your scooter on the ground." Nope. She props it against the tailgate with the handle bar that scratches the car.
It's not about the scratch. I have scratches on the van. I've made some of the scratches.
When I asked Emma why she didn't listen (why do I ask?!) She replied,"I didn't want my scooter to get run over by a car."
I know that she looks like me for a reason. When I drop her off at the orphanage they will be able to tell that she's mine and won't let me leave without her.
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Day 3. The conflict resumes. After a brief ceasefire, the insurgent force fire back inflicting minor casualties.
It's funny what you can withstand - before you snap. It's almost always the little things that make me snap. Like the "straw that broke the camel's back".
Straw: Today mine was maple syrup hands, missing socks and hitting every red light on the way to an appointment.
A trifecta!
I swear that those "straws" build up and I can't take my thumb out of the damn.
On the positive side, we had a FHE lesson given by Michael about the importance of listening. He used an example of Laura Ingalls and how she listened to her Ma. No, we didn't have treats after the lesson.
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