MissAttitude is sleeping peacefully next to me, and when I move to stretch my back a little, she reaches my arm with her hand, looking for mamas comfort as she needs to make sure I am right there. I look at her and I remember the outburst some hours before.
“When I am older, I am going to have all the candy I want! And I will play with Barbies and… and… and I am going to eat in McDonalds everyday!” She screams.
“Very well then, suit yourself,” I tell her, while I am cleaning the kitchen counter.
“You are a horrible mother! And I don’t like you anymore!!” upset that I am not getting upset with her.