Pickle Shaming

What a lovely Monday. I stayed home sick and chose to keep the Pickle home with me. Right? We know where this post is heading (plus you read the post title). Let me preface with - it was a weekend full of threenager-dom...'I want dis' and 'I don't yike that' - and so on. On Friday night, she spent hours pulling Deuce around by a rope and calling him horsey. Then she informed me that it was my turn. I obliged and got down on the floor. She jumped up and kicked my sides with her stirrups and told me to giddy up. This lasted for a few minutes until I bucked her off. She scowled at me and told me I was a "terrible horsey!". What the hell - how does she even know that word?

I spent Saturday cleaning my hoarding mess the garage and she thought she was helping. Every time I turned my back, she unloaded a box of donation items.

• Step one of helpfulness included stripping down to a pull-up and tennis shoes...but only because I insisted on the shoes. 
• Step two was dumping fifty bags of tiny, glittery ornaments into your wagon and any other crap a 39" kid can reach. 
• Step three was really fun - find all play dough and dump onto filthy floor. Scream when Deuce eats it and then throw into wagon.
• Step four...strip to buck nakedness and wrap yourself in glittery tulle. This doesn't end well, no matter how you play it.
• Step five: "Daddddddy!" Yeah, come get this kid.

Can't even tell you how the rest of the day, because a few hours later I was a puking, sick, hot mess. Same with Sunday. But I think they looked something like this.

Back to Monday...started with the usual "I want apple juish!"...and the new one "just a little bit of apple juice, pleeease?". We had a lovely lunch of over processed, quick fix food that she told me was 'tasty'. Then her table broke...in the middle of her lunch, spilling noodles everywhere. I said, "hey, were you standing on your table again?" Blank stare and eye avoidance. Aweshum. 

Daddy makes it home and has some surprises. Which I know because she tells me that I have presents. I finally tell them that we all need fresh air - so we take a quick walk...where we have to pick up every piece of dirty snow and stick we find. And discuss every type of poop we see. Then she takes off running while mommy holds her breath thinking that any resulting road rash is going to cause child services to question our parenting. 

After that, I escape to the garage to work on a project. Everything seemed fine - I heard dinner being prepared and chatting. I thought, 'how lovely'... I walk in from the garage and its suspiciously quiet... Someone is scratching his ballsh on the couch and I as where Pickle went. More blank stares...what is it with this family? We both go searching and then I hear a 'holy...' from upstairs. Daddy walks out and tells me that when he found her she exclaimed "I DIDNT DO IT!!" 

For the love of Pete - I'm still pissed that I didn't have the foresight to replace all the carpet with rubber flooring when we moved in. Who wants to borrow a Pickle? I can provide a kennel...if that helps?