The Girl

The sky is blue. No, it’s not.

~ Bon Steele ~ 2 Comments

The Girl and I got into a spat this morning. It wasn’t serious but it was frustrating.

ME:   That skirt doesn’t touch your knees – pretty sure you can’t wear it to school.
HER:   It does so! *ineffectual tug, ineffectual tug* See?
ME:   Really? Change skirts. I don’t want them to send you home.
HER:   They aren’t going to send me home!

Fashion sense. I haz it.

It wasn’t so much the skirt. I actually kind of liked her outfit. Stripey socks and Jack Skellington T-shirt FTW!

No. It was the immediate jump to arguing that made me see red. Because this has been happening a lot. A whole lot. She will argue with me about anything and everything. Heck, she argues with me about stuff we agree on. It’s like she can’t help herself.

And, I know that it is because she is twelve and asserting her independence and becoming her own person and yadda yadda yadda. I am cool with that. Sorta. Kinda. Maybe.

OK. I am cool with it in theory. But it still is difficult to experience. One, because it is just goddamn annoying to have everything you say brought up as a debate point. Two, because it means that she isn’t wholly my Girl, anymore. She is becoming an adult, someone who – in theory – thinks and decides for herself. Which is very cool and keen and all that. But it doesn’t make it easier.

Especially when we are arguing about whether the sky is blue.

Bigger Jellyfish

~ Bon Steele ~ Leave a comment

Bigger Jellyfish a video by gamer_geek_grrl on Flickr.

My lovely daughter, hamming. Err…jellyfishing it up. 🙂

Bill Cosby was right

~ Bon Steele ~ 3 Comments

 They all have brain damage. 

This clip brought to you by The Girl saying “I dunno” when asked why she – air quote – FORGOT – end air quote, to complete her trash-chore.

Empty the bins.
Empty the recycling.
Empty the litter.
Put fresh liners in trash bins.
Put fresh litter in cat box.
Wheel receptacles to curb.
DONE.

It isn’t like this is all new territory. Trash emptying happens every Monday evening.  It does not change. It does not deviate. It does not morph into a robot and cause interstellar war.

I am not sure WHY this is so difficult. I suspect that it is the same issue that causes her to leave her plate on the table after dinner. Or her dirty clothes bunched up around her toilet instead of in one of the two laundry baskets she’s been provided. Brain damage would also explain the mozzarella cheese stick wrappers shoved into the couch cushions.

“Why are there wrappers in the couch cushions?”
“It wasn’t me!”
“Honey – there is NO ONE ELSE in the house but you who eats those things. Did they magically appear there?”
“I dunno!”

 

Maybe it is just a phase?  One that – praise Cheezits and pass the whiskey – she will outgrow?   Soon? Really soon? Before I lose what is left of my mind?