I Hate Falling Back

Daylight Savings Time is totally lame. The strangest part about that is I absolutely hate the "standard" time. I can't stand "falling back." The kids don't know or care that 7am becomes 6am. They don't care that I'll have to spend an extra hour dealing with their cranky butts tonight. Not to mention I'm not overly fond of it being dark at 6pm. It feels like it should have been bedtime HOURS ago, but instead GraceAnne's just now picking out a story. Tonight was just the night from h*ll with her, anyway. She'll drive me to drink, I swear it!

It started out like any other Sunday. Except earlier. After I took a nap and felt a little better we decided we'd go to Olive Garden since I have a coupon and a gift card. On the way there GraceAnne was messing with her sister. By messing with her I mean poking her repeatedly in the head and face with whatever she could find. Do you suppose Violet minds this? No. So the lesson is completely lost on GraceAnne every.single.time. we tell her, because Violet says nothing, so she must not be bothered by it, right? And if we're not bothering anyone, we're not really doing anything wrong, right? *sigh* So she was poking her with a hair bow which we told her to keep to herself because Violet doesn't have enough hair for a bow. She then proceeded to put it in her own hair and rip out a huge chunk by pulling it out instead of un-clipping it. She said, "I really don't like this bow, it makes my hair get in knots!" So Allan took it from her. Then she whined about wanting it back and made a huge fuss and I said, "I thought you didn't like it." She said, "I don't." So I did the only logical thing that could be done...I threw it out the window. Which caused a HUMONGOUS fit to be thrown, the likes of which you've probably never seen unless you've tried to kick your teenage daughter out of the bathroom before prom. Then we heard the truth...she DOES like the bow! She wants it back RIGHT NOW! I make her SO MAD! Right about this time we pull into the parking lot of Olive Garden and she's freaking out kicking the back of Allan's seat, crying, screaming, throwing a class A fit. I told Allan to drive once around the parking lot and turned around to tell her, (calmly, I'm so proud!), "If you don't calm down before we get around this parking lot, we will go home instead of eating out." Apparently she felt like testing me, so she gave Allan's seat a good kick and let out a good wail. So we drove home--with a squealing, shrieking, pissed-off pre-schooler in the backseat. She kept repeating that she wanted her bow, didn't want to go home, wanted to eat at Olive Garden, etc. etc.

And then the ultimate awesomeness happened...I was snickering at her being an idiot and she pointed her little finger at me and started to wag it and said, "I'm telling you ONE MORE TIME! I WANT my bow back and YOU WILL go in that road to get it!" Well, by then Allan had about had it. He pulled that car over so fast and pulled her out and made her apologize for being ugly to her mother. She finally apologized over all of the blubbering and I said, "I forgive you." She didn't say another word all the way home. After we got home she tried to sass a couple more times, but all we had to say to her was "you're skating dangerously close to being a sass" and she stopped.

Someone please tell her that she is FOUR and not FOURTEEN! Is the day over yet???

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