A Family on Lockdown

The girls are off for the week for Thanksgiving break. I stressed to them that they should relax and sleep late on Saturday. Rest your tired bones.

Then they wake up at 6:30am.

Yes, they played with puppy Merlin for a while and talked to Grandma on the phone. But something sinister was afoot.

Isabella (she’s 7) had a tantrum because, what the hell does it matter, she’s 7 and had a tantrum. She was playing piano and Rudolph was being a bitch. What with his nose and all.


Us: Nobody hates you.

Iz: But, you won’t let me play this right.

Us: How are we stopping you?

Iz: Because you are listening!

You see how this is going so far.

Iz: I want to stop this and play on the iPad.

Mommy: No, not until you calm down, brush your teeth, and have some breakfast.

Iz: You HATE me!

At this point, I know you are chuckling. But, when you’re in the middle of it, it is SO not funny.

Mommy: Ok. Nobody gets the iPad.

Daddy: And, no TV or computers or nothing. Read a book.

Iz: But, I have no one to read to! You HATE me.

Mommy whips out the old stand-by:

Mommy: Go to your room!

So, now, I am cowering in the corner of the bathroom reporting this to you. I’m a hostage in my own home. Because a 7-year-old didn’t get enough sleep. Someone call 911 for me.

Wait… at last report, it appears the 7-year-old fell asleep in her bed with her puppy. Call off the SWAT team. I think we’ll survive.

I love Saturday.

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