One daughter, let's call her Daughter 1, "borrowed" one of my super-expensive new Coco Camino white with nibs bars and took it to school, only to find out she thought the "pieces" in the bar - actual shards of cocoa nibs - were, in her words, disgusting. Lucky for me, she handed the bar off to a friend (who only accepted it, she assured me, because the friend didn't bring lunch that day; she was starving). The friend apparently said the chocolate bar "wasn't bad" if you ate around the nib-pieces.
The other daughter, let's call her Daughter 2, was the first of my children ever to ask if mermaids had tushies. I was stunned into silence by the brilliance of the question, but luckily diverted her onto something else just as she was starting to ask if mermaids eat. I'm sure the inevitable going-to-the-bathroom question would have been not far behind.
Disastrous end-of-dance-class recital today!
Naomi (let's call her Daughter 2) loves dance class, enjoys her teacher (though not with the outright adoration that she has for some past teachers, where she must BE them every minute of every day). Well, the last class of every session is a "recital", which is really just the regular class, only with parents watching.
In the car on the way there, she said "I don't want Abba watching," but I didn't think anything of it, except to think it was nice that the recital was happening on his day off, because he misses a lot of her daytime activities. Anyway, once the class started and we were all sitting on the bench, she blew up into a full-blown crying fit and wouldn't do a thing.
I ended up sending Ted out, but then I also went out, because I told Naomi if she wasn't going to do it with us there, we couldn't stay. So maybe that was the wrong thing; she sat by the door sobbing and disturbing the whole class until I had to go back in.
Anyway, in the end I stood with her waving her arms around like some kind of special-program toddler and not the four-year-old she will be in just a few days. I was very frustrated with her, and she seemed very sad about the whole thing. BUT I promised her gum for the car and by the time we got outside she was mostly smiling. I'm sure she'll be twirling around like a ballerina for the rest of the day when she wakes up from her nap.
Meanwhile, I'm still so frustrated.
Why does raising these daughters of mine feel so much like trying to push around a piece of string?
(it doesn't work; I've tried)