Any second now Alexis is going to wake up and she's going to be six inches taller. I know this because I think I may have finally found a swimsuit that will fit her (I don't want to talk about how long that took until after the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder starts to wear off a bit.). I also know this because she's been walking around with her foot wedged sideways in her mouth for several days now.
Any time the kid has gone through a particularly venomous phase of cranky, it has been because she was in the midst of a wicked growth spurt. Earlier this spring when I wanted to duct tape her to the ceiling and make her watch as I dressed all of her Barbies, she grew an inch in one week. She went from wearing a toddler size 8 shoe (she has always had freakishly small feet) to a toddler size 11 like *that.* The only hint we had as it was happening (besides the obvious and sudden inability to find any clothes or shoes that fit her), was that she kept saying stupid stuff and reacting ridiculously to various things.
And, hey, if you throw a full out temper tantrum because your mom tells you there isn't a "d" in "father?" YOU MIGHT BE OVER REACTING.
Mr. Husband had to work Sunday, so I was left to play verbal volleyball with the kid myself. It was . . . what's the opposite of pleasant? Misery? No, that's not strong enough of a word. Let's just say that I kept eying the duct tape. Longingly.
Around the fifth time she tried to convince me that she wasn't doing anything I told her to do unless I took her to Build-A-Bear, I'd had about enough of the terrorist thinking she had any power over me. I had a choice that needed to be made. Either the kid needed to go to time out for the rest of her life, or I needed to find a way to distract her from her self-destructing ways.
I opted to let her wash away the cranky.
I threw her into the Water Stairs on the North Shore, which is the same place she has been calling "The Beach" for years now.
It takes time to wash away all of the grumpy.
But once it's gone, WOW is the kid cuter.
