There’s Hope for Me Yet.
I knew it was coming. I knew it was inevitable. And it happened.
We’d just come back from a 2 hour jaunt to the park. I had a migraine and Maya’s constant complaining didn’t help. It was 4:30 pm and she was starving so we started on dinner immediately – as in do not pass go, do not even remove your sunglasses – just start cooking.
I let her help me make calzones. I tried to be patient when she knocked flour all over the floor. I didn’t say a word when she licked her fingers. Twice. We put the calzones in the oven and set the timer for 8 interminable minutes.
As the timer slowly ticked away she sat down and started tapping her fingers on the counter impatiently. I miraculously ignored her dramatic, “I’m waiting.” I ignored more tapping. I fulfilled her demand for more sparkling water.
But then the final straw: another episode of finger tapping and the icing on the cake – “I’m still waiting.” And that’s when I lost it. That’s when I told my 5-year-old to shut up.
I lied and told Ali I only said it once but what really happened was I said “Shut up!” and then a second later, “Why can’t you just shut up?”
I’m not proud of myself but I instantly perked up when I overheard a mother at Target say to her daughter, “If you do that one more time I’m going to beat the S@#$ out of you.”
There’s hope for me yet.