It's spring break, which basically means I'm inches away from crawling under my desk and rocking back and forth in the fetal position in an attempt to recover from all the things my children have put me through lately. They're pros at driving me to the brink and having a WHOLE week of free time to do it is ... oof.
That's the short explanation for why all they have to do is say, "Should we go get ice cream?" and I'm like EVERYBODY IN THE CAR NOW. I can drown my sorrows in a scoop of turtle ice cream, ya'll. It's a healthy outlet.
As we were returning from an ice cream trip this evening, I realized that one of Mila's favorite playgrounds is pretty directly along the way. I figured I would loop through, give her 20 minutes to play, and then go back to wanting to hide from both girls. As we were on the way there, I keep telling Mila to put away her phone (technically it's more like a miniature iPad because it's an old phone that doesn't have service). I wanted her to focus on eating, not playing with the talking cat she has been obsessed with lately.
I reminded her.
I reminded her again.
Her ice cream sat there melting.
As I pulled into the park with the playground, a sprinkle dripped off the top of her ice cream and on to the seat. And that was it. That was the sprinkle that broke me. "Well, I was going to let you play, but since you can't follow directions, we'll just go home."
Let it be known, Mila is the Queen of F**k Around and Find Out. She flatly ignores warnings all the time with the full intention of getting exactly what she wants anyway.
NOT THIS TIME.
I meant it. I was going to be nice, but I don't have to be nice, so we drove through the park and headed home.
Mila was LIVID. She started screaming and crying and basically she threw a toddler-sized fit while wearing a 7-year old body. It was the fittiest of fits. So dramatic. So mad. So screamy.
Not helping matters was the wise-ass 16-year old who could NOT stop laughing. I kept glaring at her, but she found it absolutely hilarious that Mila thought screaming was going to get her anywhere. There was a lot of ass-vice floating around in the car, most of it in the variety of, "Have you met mom? Yelling doesn't work on her."
I took that particular comment as a compliment, for what it's worth.
The fit went on and on and I just drove home because nooooope. That's not how you get your way. Besides, the sun had started to set and the window of kindness that I had open was closing rapidly. We made it all the way to the road that leads to our neighborhood before Mila finally calmed down.
But then she said a thing that made both Alexis and I laugh so hard that we re-triggered a fit. Whoops? I think? I mean, am I not supposed to laugh when my 7-year old says, "I pulled my life together and it was for NOTHING!" with all the drama of a telenova?
I definitely laughed.