Something very strange happened this morning. And I mean, holy shit, knock me over the head, voo-doo magical trick and shit strange. And I am so scared to write about it because I believe I might jinx myself and cause this eerie happening to never ever "happen" again.
My 6 year old had a really good morning.
And when I say "good", I mean we were laughing and shit.
All the way to the school door.
I mean, she got dressed while telling jokes, she didn't scream at me to get the "bubbles" out of her hair that she brushes straight through every morning 6,846 times, even though every stroke causes her hair style to look EXACTLY the same as the previous attempt. She ate her cereal and didn't scream at her sister to "Hurry up because you're such a dork and your shirt is so ugly". Her sock seams were absolutely perfect today - even though these are the same Hello Kitty socks I wash every f_#*ing night of my life to lay out wrinkle-free for her on her pile of already picked out clothes and can never figure out what it is that sometimes causes them to fit so perfectly while on other sporadic mornings she insists I secretly inserted sandpaper or granola crumbs inside the toe section.
Analyze every little thing we did last night and this morning that might have caused this glorious morning to occur...
SSSHHHH......It will be perfect.
And I might actually not hide under my covers in the morning, dreading to get out of bed and face the time frame between my girls' alarm clocks going off and 7:59am which is one minute before 2nd bell and usually puts us running full speed to the school doors so that my precious little Type A+++ personality (inherited by my ass of an ex-husband of course) daughters do not have to get a late pass. Because god only knows, if that happens, I am doomed forever.
Check out the link:
I'm not kidding. If McCain and Palin can miraculously turn this 6 year old daughter around for another few consecutive mornings, I may have to switch presidential signs and forgo any loyalty or personal beliefs and ultimately give this pair my vote next week.
But then again, I know the truth. And this morning was surely equal to simply putting lipstick on a pig. You just can't cover up reality. And I can not expect miracles. So darling Sydney, while I enjoyed this morning so much that I have dedicated an entire blog to it and your behavior, I am not expecting miracles baby. I love you still, and loyalties remain. And if you wake up tomorrow and can't find mommy downstairs, just check my bed. I'll most likely still be hiding under the covers.