If parenting is Karmic retribution for things you did to your own parents when you were a kid, HOLY CRAP did I talk back a lot. Er, I mean, Mr. Husband must have talked back a lot. Surely I was a perfect angel. Who talked back a lot.

Anyway, Alexis' mouth frequently writes checks her little butt can't cash. I think in some ways it's a side effect of her having a pretty solid vocabulary; her mouth knows how to say phrases that her brain doesn't fully comprehend. For example, today she told me, "I'm right and you're wrong." I'm sure her brain understands all those words, but I don't think it realizes that stringing them together is a very bad, no good idea. Although, she may have figured it out shortly after she said it.

As we sat gathered around a bowl of tortilla chips and some salsa at a local restaurant this afternoon, Alexis' mouth ran away without her brain. I don't exactly recall what she said but that's mostly because there was so much backtalk and sass and generally brattery that I lost track of the specific incidents. She has a firm grasp on the concept of Stranger Protection--the idea that she can push the limits a little further as long as there are strangers around to protect her. She also knows that the second we leave, she's toast and that she had better not push it so far that we leave early just because of her.

As we walked out the door, she wisely shut her little trap. She kept it shut all along the drive home and for a while after we had settled back in at the house. Then she said, "Momma, get me some cake."

A demand.

I glared at her.

She cowered slightly, smiled a little, and said, "Pleeeeeeease?"

I glared again. "After you were so bad at the restaurant, I'm pretty sure I won't be getting you any cake."

The look on her face said, "Crap! You remember that!" Her mouth said, "But momma, I'm apologizing!"

"It's a little late for that, my dear," I told her.

"But I apologizing!" she repeated.

I had to turn away to keep her from seeing me laugh at her odd grammar choices. "If you want cake, you're going to have to learn to be nice when we go out to eat," I said over my shoulder.

Back and forth we went, her pointing out that she was using her manners and that she was apologizing and that she was "Being nice now," and me not caring. Once she decided that she wasn't going to get anywhere with her mean mother, she ran downstairs to hang out with her dad. By then, she had forgotten all about the cake and instead set out to get to watch Hannah Montana.

Let's just say his memory isn't quite as good as mine. Either that, or he's nicer than me.

Anyway.

This is probably where I should apologize to my parents for talking back so much as a kid because OH MY HELLS BELLS do I ever (now) understand how frustrating that had to have been. It's a wonder they let me live. But, rather than apologize, I think I'll just point out that it was probably their fault anyway. My talking back was just payback for some sin they committed against their parents.

Neener neener.