There is nothing in the world more spine chilling than your three year child shouting from the other room,
“I’m sorry Mommy! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry Mommy! I’m super super sorry!”
and then (a) not being able to get her to communicate why she’s sorry,
and (b) not being able to find any apparent reason for her sudden, vehement remorse.
Because it means that one day in the near future I am going to find something horrifying that only a tyrannical three year old could think up – like maybe a whole container of laundry soap in the dryer. Or finger paint on the piano keys. Or Vicks all over the dog. Or fingernail polish art on the carpet. Or permanent marker Gene Simmon’s style all over her sister’s doll’s face.
I am currently accepting donations of wine and chocolate to be applied directly to my ongoing Mommy Sanity Care.
Love it! It’s a bit like when you play a prank on someone and they say they’ll get you back (and you know they will), and you’re looking over your shoulder for weeks waiting for whatever they’re going to do.