This too shall pass

wrong way, originally uploaded by toyfoto.

The gigantic meltdown we experienced this morning - number 294 in an infinite series - was caused by me wanting to comb Ittybit's unruly hair; Jed taking over, ending up putting her in time out because she used her hands as a moving obstacle course through the strands he was trying to tame; and then him coming out to tell me that he doesn't even believe it's a fight we should be having with her anyway.

"I mean, I don't comb my hair."

Uhm. ... You don't have hair to comb Mr.Rocket.Scientist.

So what is a mother to do? I go back into her room and explain that if she wants her hair to be long she has to comb it once a day. When she turns into a screaming, scrabbling beatle, I FORCIBLY comb it for her.

She struggles and screams, and hits her head on the chair, and then she does the only thing left in her power to do now that I'm holding her arms at her side and raking the child-sized brush through her tresses: she FIRES me.

"You're fired, MOMMY. Your fired."

Then, with her hair combed and 10 minutes late, we leave with her breakfast in a to-go box and I spend the next 22 minutes (almost the entire time it takes to get to the sitter's house) listening to her cry and rail against how mean I am, how she can't touch her brother because he's too far away, and she's not ever, ever, ever going to talk to me again. Sorry, "Never ever."

And she meant it, too. Until she saw the furry creatures dotting the hillside a few minutes from our final destination.

"Oh, but Mama, look. There's a LLAMA. See it rhymes! MAMA. LLAMA. MAMA. LLAMA. mamallamma mamallama mamallamma mamallama mamallamma mamallama mamallamma mamallama mamallamma mamallama mamallamma mamallama mamallamma mamallama mamallamma mamallama mamallamma mamallama ... "

No way was I telling her they were alpacas.