Dyslexia? I wish.

For our visit to Chicago I packed the tops I had embroidered for the girls so as to show them to their grandma. Ava, of course, happily put hers on and showed grandma how she had helped pick the colors, etc. etc. Cathryn, on the other hand, took one look at the top and proceeded to have a nuclear-power-plant-worthy meltdown.

How could I possibly ask her to wear this horrific monstrosity? Didn't I know that she hated it? HATED! IT! and would NEVER wear it, not in a million billion infinity years! EVER!

Just in case I was not sure if she liked it or not.

Fine. Got it. You don't like the shirt. BUT, and this is a big BUT, let's take a moment to talk about civility. And how, if someone spends a great deal of effort making you something, you need to be grateful. Even if you don't like it. Even if that person gave birth to you.

NOOOOOOO!!!! I will not EVER like it! I *HATE* grateful! NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

So I told her that she did not have to wear the shirt, I wasn't going to force her, but I thought she was behaving very rudely, she had hurt my feelings and I didn't want to talk to her for a while. And I left the room and went to read a magazine full of young, single, childless women, clearly enjoying their young, single, childless lives. A few minutes later Cate comes up and yells "Fine! I'm SORRY!". To which I reply: Cathryn, you are old enough to understand that when you are rude and hurt someone's feelings, yelling "I'm sorry" at them isn't enough to make things right. I am still angry with you. Please leave me alone. She throws herself to the ground in mortal agony; my words have wounded her to the quick! When she sees that I am ignoring her she huffs off dramatically. (Probably going to tell on me to grandma)

She comes back about 5 minutes later and thrusts a piece of paper into my face. "I made this for you" she snots. It is a drawing of a woman (presumably me) and a little girl (presumably her) standing together. Both are smiling. On it she has scrawled LOVE MOMMY, although the "love" part is backwards (E-V-O-L; isn't that precious?). My heart softens. "Are you telling me you love me?"

"No. It says 'Evil Mommy'."

Of course. Thanks, kid. Have I told you lately that you are NOT my favorite?