I was cautiously teetering across that tightrope between headache and migraine. Sudden movements and bright lights and even the simple of act of blinking were like bolts of lightening striking misery all through my head. Meanwhile, Alexis, in her infinite joy, was bouncing and jumping and generally doing her very best impersonation of Tigger after swallowing a bottle of Happy Pills. As we sat together on the bench waiting for the bus to carry us back to the hotel for the night, I finally had to tell the bundle of energy to chill out. I explained why as best as I could through the fog of pain.
As the words began to sink in to her little head, her eyebrows scrunched together with concern. "Oh, momma," she said. She thought for a moment and then said, "Don't worry. I'm going to be a doctor when I'm bigger enough. I'll make you feel better," she said softly.
***************************************************************
"Quit. Running. NOW!" I told her for the 135,362,980,791st time that day.
I didn't hear her exact response. It was so full of sass and attitude and brattiness that the words were irrelevant. I knelt down and sternly told her, "Look at me. NOW."
Her eyes darted left and right and left and right, everywhere but where I was sitting.
"EYES. NOW," I told her. I was out of patience.
She finally locked eyes with me long enough for me to see that there was absolutely no fear in them.
She knew she was in trouble. She didn't care.
***************************************************************
Moving even a millimeter made my head feel like it was being attacked by millions of microcosmic pirates and their tiny swords. Otherwise, I would have melted into a puddle of motherly goo right then and there. The urge to melt only grew stronger when Alexis took her still-chubby little hands and began to gently stroke the back of my head.
Alexis continued her mothering, dumping more and more of her sweetness all over the parking lot. "Is that better?" she finally asked.
"A little bit," I told her. In reality, nothing had changed. The headache still raged on like a runaway freight train filled with angry fire ants. However, it's the thought that counts. She thought she was being helpful.
***************************************************************
I continued to lock eyes with the defiant little creature. She tried to look away, but I continued to snap at her to look at me.
"You can either choose to have a good day, or you can go sit on that bench and not move for the rest of the day," I told her between stare-downs. I meant it. I was willing to spend hours sitting on that bench in silence. It would have been better than spending any more time walking around Disney World with a mean-spirited little demon.
"Noooo!" she cried. The good thing about rarely bluffing is that Alexis isn't willing to risk testing to see if I am holding a pair of 2's while she has a full house.
"It makes me very sad and angry when you aren't nice," I told her.
She began sobbing, clearly crushed that she had disappointed me.
Her behavior improved a bit, but it remained a tedious game of challenging wills and skirting authority all day long.
***************************************************************
"Momma," she she said as she continued to gently stroke the back of my head, "I think you need a funnel cake." She reached into her backpack and grabbed the change she had been carrying around all day. "Here you go," she instructed. "Go buy a funnel cake. That'll make you feel better."
