Girl child hands me empty juice cup.
Me: “Can you take this to the kitchen, please?”
Girl child: “You take it. I’m not your servant.”
Me: “What??!!!” (Feeling like some guy is about to jump out from behind my couch with a camera and yell “You’ve been punked!”)
Me: “But this is YOUR cup!”
Girl child is gone. She returns momentarily with a ladder, yoga mat, skate board and a blanket, stating “You failed baby. That’s why everyone calls you Failed Head. Even I call you that.”
This is a pretty typical evening in my house after dinner. Boy child plays nearby on iPad and I stare listlessly into space while Girl child chatters. Sometimes I have a little energy left to play a game or run to the store or go for a walk with them. Sometimes. Chatter continues.
“Momma, what does ACPKTI spell?”
“Momma, tell me how much weight this baby doll can lift?”
“Momma, what’s after 19?”
Whispers, “Momma when are you going to fix her?” Gesturing towards doll. “She has blood all over her and she doesn’t know it.”
Walks back over where her dolls are laid out, surrounding various sized hand weights.
To the dolls: “Ok, who wants to go first? Do you want to die?”
To me: “Momma they are getting backtized [baptized] tonight at the workout gym.”
And then she yells “Hosanna!” as she runs through the house.
I would be the first to participate in some kind of experimental energy transfer clinical trial.