Saturday, February 21, 2009

Meltdown Mania

All is well until the witching hour, at which time most mild mannered children have already succombed to a nap. Not so, our children. The Melt Down Mode in our household raises its ugly head, and Spitfire is gathering speed, roaring down the highway of no control with frightening accuracy. I often have no idea what precipitates these prechooler tantrums. Is it the chocolate kiss I gave her after lunch? The length of time I held Destructo before nap time? The amount of salt on her French Fries? The dire need for a nap?
At the height of discord, Spitfire loudly invites Dart Guy and I to go sleep outside with the raccoons, which, quite frankly, seems like an inviting option. I burn my hand trying to empty the dishwasher before things have cooled, all the while ignoring her outburst, and, since nothing is more entertaining than a Parent In Pain, Destructo giggles uncontrollably. I hear the start up of more Conflict between Dart Guy and Spitfire, ending with Spitfire yelling so the neighbors can hear--"You are definitely too mean!" She stomps from the room, a relief for all of us. The ensuing quiet is intoxicating, and then dinner is ready. I call out a request for hand washing, which brings Spitfire out of hiding and into the hall, waiting for me to twist the child-proof knob of the bathroom door to allow her entrance. I am about to leave her scowling self alone, when I notice that she is able to reach the faucet without the stool. She is tall enought to reach. This is the same stool that Dart Guy and I purchased only a year back, smugly mired in Land of the Little. I suddenly forget that I was ready to sleep with racoons a few minutes ago. I hug her, inhaling her sweaty, rough-and-tumble-outdoor- kid smell, memorizing its essence. It is fading already when she moves away from me, and then Dart Guy appears in the doorway.
"I am going to have the Serenity Prayer tatooed on my #@$," he says grimly.
I immediately know that I shouldn't have complained about the dishwasher for the hundreth time. It has sent poor Dart Guy over the edge.


  1. lol...why his a**? why not his arm, or his leg where he could actually look at it...i don't think it will really help anyone on his a**.