Lately Monday has been rearing her ugly head and smacking me around. Bad. That's the only explanation I have for how it came to be that two Mondays in a row, every set of keys we own ended up in Mr. Husband's car. I stood in the kitchen when I should have been starting the car, fully realizing that it would take him two hours to get a car key to me, as a short person stood staring at me all sorts of confused. With the knowledge that it wasn't worth him taking the time to bail me out, I decided to work from home.
With the Demon Child there.
While Alexis is generally a good kid, she spent the weekend in quite the funk. Her mouth often writes checks her butt can't cash, and she frequently finds herself on the receiving end of my fury because of it. This weekend she was especially bad. So bad that not only did I revoke all of her television privileges for the rest of her life, but I also went for the jugular. I don't even remember what exactly she said on Saturday afternoon that sent me straight over the edge, I just know that she wasn't even slightly shocked when I silently walked over to her beloved dollhouse and moved it to the top of the fridge, far out of her reach.
Taking away her dollhouse is like taking away her oxygen. It took me a long time to figure out that was the only thing that would really make her feel pain, so I save it for the worst of her offenses. It works. Well.
On Sunday I still hadn't forgotten that I was disappointed in her behavior, so she didn't get her dollhouse back. Tears were shed, promises were made, and I told her she had to be good the rest of the day and I would think about letting her have it back.
And then Monday morning rolled around and the Demon Child needed entertainment while I churned out some serious work. With a shower of threats and guarantees that one false move would land her dollhouse back in jail, I gave it to her.
She nearly passed out from The Happy.
And then the Demon Child proceeded to have her best behavior day I can recall. EVER. She quietly played with her dollhouse for hours. She cheerfully splashed in her pool for several more hours. She silently sat at her craft table and colored picture after picture after picture. Never once did I have to tell her to alter her behavior, not even to tell her to leave the cat alone, which I could have sworn was a phrase that automatically falls out of my mouth every quarter hour. I mean, I thought I had set a timer, but then there she was, acting like an absolute angel and I didn't sound like a tape recorder AT ALL.
She used her manners. She was pleasant. She was my bestest bud ever.
I spent the evening showering her with praise because ZOMG! I want to keep that version of Alexis forever and ever and ever! AND EVER!
Monday may try to beat me down, but a well-behaved short person can make the day better than perfect.
