I try very hard not to let my mouth write a check my booty can't cash. That applies to all aspects of life, but it seems to be the whole world of discipline that has been getting me in trouble lately.

Alexis is the epitome of the type of child who is best disciplined through the use of threats and consequences. Tell her she has until the count of three to stop jumping on the couch, and she will manage to quit just before the "th" makes it out of your mouth, but only if there is some sort of consequence involved. I'm a big fan of threatening to take away her dollhouse, Baby Shell, or her books. All are highly effective.

Last week Alexis decided it would be great fun to start acting like a three-year old and being straight out defiant at daycare. She was sticking her tongue out when told to do things, laughing when she got in trouble, and doing extra crap just to get in trouble. Boundary testing, if you will. On Thursday night when I got the scoop, I told her she needed to be nice at school the next day or . . . there would be no Betchtubles.

Serious behavior issues require serious consequences and there is NOTHING in this world that disappoints that kid more than telling her she can't go Betchtubles on a Friday night. (If you missed the explanation on that one, Alexis LOVES going to the Farmer's Market--she calls it "Betchtubles.")

So Friday rolled around and as Alexis and I were walking into daycare, we talked about what would happen if she wasn't good all day. She said she understood and agreed that she wanted to go Betchtubles, so she was going to be nice.

She wasn't.

So, my booty had to cash that check. Sure, the kid was HUGELY disappointed to learn that I wasn't bluffing. But, you know who was more disappointed? ME. I get a funnel cake every Friday when we go and do you know how bitter I was that I didn't get a funnel cake last week? BITTER.

So bitter I wanted to cry. FUNNEL CAKE!

But, guess who was even more bitter? Mr. Husband. Turns out that if he doesn't get his gyro, he turns into a crybaby as well. So we were a trio of crybabies, and two of the crybabies were mad at me.

I will never write that check again. Promise.