I don't know what there is to be all pissed off about when you are six years old, but Alexis found it at school Friday of last week. She then took that pissery and shoved it in her heart where it festered and grew and exploded into A Very Miserable Attitude.
She and her Very Miserable Attitude stomped off of the school bus, walked up the sidewalk, and glared at me when I asked her how her day was. With a snap and a growl, she stormed into the house and began to complain about everything.
"It's too hot."
"Penny is bothering me."
"I don't waaaaaaaaaaaaant to change clothes."
OK, then. Go ahead and stay in your school uniform, CHILD. And while you're at it, JUST GO TO BED.
I didn't say that to her, by the way. There's really no point at yelling at someone who has a Very Miserable Attitude. It's like throwing gasoline on a fire (these are the things that you learn when you are old like me). Instead, I asked Alexis the question I ask her every time she tries to wallow in a vat of misery and whining.
"Alexis, do you want to have a good day or a bad day? It's your choice."
She hates when I say that, but it usually works. (Oh, how I wish it worked on grown-ups.)
She glared at me some more and mumbled something under her breath. If she knows any curse words, I'm sure she used them.
"Seriously, Alexis. The story of today isn't done yet. Do you want it to have a happy ending or bad ending?" I said.
She glared and glared and then finally broke from the stare-off we were having. "I want to have a happy day, I guess," she finally mumbled.
"You guess or you do?" I asked.
"I DO," she snapped.
Five minutes later, she had shrugged off the Very Miserable Attitude. We decided to help her write her happy ending by hunting down a little carnival in a mall parking lot.
And then she slapped some pink cotton candy on top of that happy ending LIKE A BOSS.