Red Jell-O! Red Jell-O!

Hot dog, it worked!
Well. More or less.

Several weeks ago a fit of crazy took me over, and I told Princess the only suitable debate topic between her and I was concerning the variety of Jell-O flavors. Since then, whenever I discern that she really doesn't care what we're arguing about as long as she and I are having an unpleasant verbal exchange, I begin to shout, "red Jell-O! Red Jell-O is the best!" Usually, this does a pretty darn good job of out-crazying her, and she slinks away.

Since spring break had no homework, I believe Princess forgot she wasn't using homework as grounds for fits anymore. So, tonight, no matter how I pulled apart, circled, drew out, or otherwise tried to help her, Princess insisted in misreading "moaned" as "mud, "monday," and "mudayeed," followed by an accusation fest of how I "wouldn't help her." It was painfully clear she had no desire whatsoever to read the word "moaned" in any capacity, so I did my Jell-O thing.

And she played!

In the tiniest, scowliest voice imaginable I heard,



"No. Green Jell-O is better."



I could not believe it. So we argued back and forth (I got pretty loud) about Jell-O for a bit, then Princess turned away. With the teensiest tiniest grin.

It would be super-cool if I could go on and on about how she regulated herself and had a lovely evening. Unfortunately, that would be fiction.

We just take what we can get around these parts.