Jasmine, Cassie, Ella, Ashley, Jenna, and Lily have been the subject of far too many conversations lately. The six hypothetical future daughters that Alexis has scripted into her hypothetical life story have not-so-hypothetically become a pain in my ass. The fact that Alexis is more than willing to proclaim that she's going to allow them to do anything they want isn't exactly a subtle indicator that she has become fed up with rules and restrictions and with me saying, "No."
I grew tired of hearing about their hypothetically perfect lives over the long weekend, so I went to war. Yes, I went to war with my hypothetical grandchildren. SHOOSH. I know it's insane.
Every time Alexis brought up Jasmine, Cassie, Ella, Ashley, Jenna, and Lily, I made it a point to say that NO WAY would I ever be babysitting. Of course, Alexis responded by telling me that was fine because she wanted to spend all of her time with them. Always one to throw the kid's logic in the toilet, I boldly told her that there was NO WAY she would want to be around them because kids who always get what they want turn out to be evil, snot-nosed brats.
Alexis was befuddled by this news.
She pondered it for an entire day, occasionally asking questions and trying to find holes in my logic. When she couldn't find a way to debunk my theory, she grew annoyed. REAL ANNOYED.
"But I don't want my daughters to be bad," she said over and over again.
"Well, that's part of why rules exist," I told her. "Rules are there to keep people safe and so that they don't get too spoiled."
Alexis was far from amused, but it didn't stop her from telling me how she was going to buy Jasmine, Cassie, Ella, Ashley, Jenna, and Lily as many Barbies as they want.
"You aren't going to have any money to buy anything for yourself," I told her.
"I don't care. I want my daughters to be happy," she responded.
If there had been a wall in the vicinity when she said that, it would now have a hole in it exactly the same shape and size as my head.
Back and forth we went, all weekend long. At some point, Alexis got the bright idea that she could use her Brat Voice with me as she argued with me over whether or not she had to clean up all of the books in her bedroom right that minute. As she predictably told me that she will never make her daughters pick up their books, I noted that I didn't appreciate her tone of voice. "I don't let you do everything you want and listen to how you talk to me. Can you imagine how mean your daughters are going to be to you?"
THAT was the poison that got her. Alexis looked absolutely crushed as she pondered being on the receiving end of sass and attitude.
Not long after, Alexis sat poking at some mulch in the garden. She had planted some sunflower seeds and was looking to see if they had started to grow yet. She seemed awfully sulky, so I asked her what was going on.
"Momma," she said. "I don't want my daughters to be bad."
"Well," I said, "What are you going to do about it?"
"I'm going to do everything the same as you do," she told me. "You're a good momma."
HEAR YE, HEAR YE! Let it be known that on the 29th day of May at approximately 3:00 pm, Alexis declared that I was, "a good momma." And now that I have it written in a place where the world can witness her proclamation, I will ABSOLUTELY be printing this out and shoving it in her face when she decides to tell me I'm a terrible person in about ten years.
BOOYAH!
