Don’t call. No really. Don’t call. Because my iPhone is hanging out in a bag of rice. I think it just got hungry. It’s not because I’m angling for the new iPhone and so I dropped it in a sink of water and had to dry it out in rice. And it’s definitely not because it fell in a toilet. That would be gross. Totally gross. So it’s not that. Stop thinking it’s that.
My kids have been on fire lately. The boy’s been a pain in the butt, with attitude up the wazzo0, willfully ignoring me, basically looking me in the eye as he does exactly what he’s not supposed to do. And the girl is just explosive. One minute she’s gazing into my eyes, telling me how much she loves me, the next she’s full of spit and vinegar. I finally said to her, “What goes on in that brain of yours?”
Pie: I don’t know.
Me: Can I get in there and find out?
Pie laughed and she said: You can try!
I will say–and I know none of you will believe this–but Pie has been sleeping in her own room. Truly. Or at least she starts out there. Which I can live with. But lately she’s been a tough sell on bedtime. She wants to be able to stay up late “reading” like her brother does, but her brother will then go to sleep on his own whereas she’ll call one of us to stay with her. And that don’t fly. So she has a fit. And we have an argument. And she’s not allowed to read before going to sleep.
Me: Why do you give us such grief when you go to bed?
Pie: I don’t know. Just sometimes I give grief, and sometimes I don’t.
Me: Are you going to give us grief tonight?
Pie: I don’t know. I never know ahead of time if I’m going to give grief or not.
Want to know if she’s going to give us grief tonight? You can’t call to find out. Because my iPhone is hangin’ with the rice. And it’s still not because it fell in a toilet. Gross.
