AC Day Two: Not So Good, Either

Saturdays are always pretty rife with fuss in these parts. We don't likey change, and Saturday is always different. Today it was a car show. I figured, great; we can hold hands at the car show! Bonding Activity! Ok, I know it's a little lame; it's not like it's really a "game," or "fun." But I hit the pool with my tippy toes, so I figured it was as good a start as any.

Unfortunately, there was a problem in the car on the way there, and it's name was Buddy is Licking His Lips at Me. As we parked, I tried to have Princess brainstorm things SHE had control over, as screaming STOOOOOOP!!!! WAAAAAAAH!!!! at Buddy did not seem to be achieving her desired results. As always, the results of her brainstorming session were I don't knows and shoulder shrugs. But when Josh told her they'd be waiting for us outside, take her time, she came up with "ignore him." I gave her some pizazz and thumbs up for that nugget, none of which was received well. So we were not off to a good start on the hand-holding. The walk from parking to the show is responsible for the claw marks and scratches on my hand- the type of thing that happens when someone is trying to pry their hand out of yours. Finally I said, "I tell you what. I'll make you a deal. You hold my hand for ten minutes, and then you can do whatever (the h@&&) you want. The prying stopped. We walked around looking at car (after car after car after car), and I said, "Princess, I love holding your hand and being this close to you. You can choose now to walk on your own where you want, or you can choose to keep holding my hand."

She said, "I want to keep holding your hand."

And she did. For almost the whole time. And it was very sweaty. I was so happy.

It would be so nice if it ended there. Here is today's chart. Notice the slight added sophistication:

There are five neat tallies next to the H. Those were before and during the car show. The B was during the car show. The M is suspiciously empty. And then there are the undefined number of rather agressive tally marks.

Yeah.

There was this issue outside involving socks and shoes and the order in which they should or should not be involved with the wearing of roller blades. And things got a little nasty. Not a lot nasty. Just nasty enough to necessitate a short time out. Or, it would have been a short time out. If a certain member of royalty had opted to take it. But she didn't.

Long boring repetitive story short, there was a lot of screaming. A lot of throwing other people's things down the stairs. A lot of a particular mommy being called stupidhead and being told to shut up. A lot of pretending to believe earnestly that she really had done a good job picking up items from stairs, much convincing that said things were indeed invisible, and then a thorough job picking though the logic of how it could not possibly have been her who did it, despite that she was the only person actually inside the house. And there may have been an incident where a mommy who probably wasn't me may have actually ripped a swimsuit off a child who would not change it and would not stay within the boundaries the woman who probably wasn't me set. In the end, I decided that she really could not possibly spend another minute not with me.

And that's where the tallies come in. Because I think that cuddling, kissing, and stroking my kicking clawing fussing 48-pound seven-year-old daughter on my lap while calmly talking with my dinner company like everyone's day is like this is good for at least five hugs. Maybe ten.

I earned those tallies.