Once upon a time, my young prince was our sole source of
rollercoaster emotions. As the days wore on, my princess
dabbled in hysteria. Now I'm not sure who wears the Drama crown considering Mason successfully, with
no very little mania, packed all of his needs for a week at Boy Scout camp and left yesterday morning with a beaming smile on his face while Paige, the Birthday Girl, has spent the better part of today alternately sulking about perceived slights
(the nondairy chocolate frozen treats are a different brand than the vanilla ones! STUPID TRADER JOE'S), singing along to The Beatles in the car, and whining about nonsensical issues
(I DON'T KNOW IF I'M SUPPOSED TO BRING IN THE GARBAGE CAN OR THE RECYCLING BIN!).
At this very moment, she is fast asleep in her slumber party-ravaged room; I banished her to napdom after she listened to a phone message from a friend inviting her to spend the night then dissolved into a wailing puddle because she wasn't sure WHAT TO SAY if her friend's grandma answered when Paige called back.
What?? Now
I'm confused, and I have a headache.
If the nap works wonders, I'm sending her to the friend's house and taking my man out on the town to erase this headache...
