Calgon! Take Me Away!

Do you remember that commercial? It was on all the time when I was a kid. The harried mom, the crazy house, then a relaxing bath.

I wanna know when the relaxing baths begin.

This morning, darling son was awake a little after six. Mike had gone back to work today (he hasn't been in the office since the Wednesday before Christmas.), so it was up to me to "reason" with him and get him back into bed.

Ummmm, yeah.

I had put him back into his bed twice before 6:45. That obviously wasn't working, so now try putting him into my bed. He laid still for maybe ten seconds, then he was squirming around, kicking his legs. At one point I looked over and he was hanging over the side, trying to get down. About that time, I heard Grace's door open. "Grace, go back to bed." Snick went her door.

I finally gave up sometime around 7:30. Grace, of course, was right there with us. Frozen pancakes for breakfast, milk to drink, everything's good.

Not so much.

I made the mistake of leaving them alone in the kitchen. Correction. I left Grace alone in the kitchen. Sam and I went to brush his teeth and wash his face. When I came back into the kitchen, Grace had her chair pushed back from the table and her paper towel rolled into a ball (don't judge me. Why should I get a plate dirty for one little frozen pancake?). I asked her if she was finished and she said yes. Well, she actually just nodded her head as her mouth was crammed full of pancake.

So, she got down and I briefly, oh so briefly, ducked into the laundry room to switch around the laundry. When I came back into the kitchen, I found that Sam had grabbed her cup, dumping milk all over the floor and Grace's chair.

Did I mention there was rolled up pancake in the puddles of milk?

Oh yes there was. She had lied to me.

So as to not completely murder her, I sent her to her room. Sam had to sit in the time-out chair because he's not supposed to grab stuff that doesn't belong to him. I cleaned up the mess, scolded Sam, then went to get Grace.

Now let me say, I gave her many. many chances to come clean. I asked her in as many ways as I could think of if she was really finished when I asked her if she was. She declared she had eaten everything. She also told me she did not put her pancake into her cup. We talked about telling the truth and what was a lie (again). It did no good.

I don't know why, but that child has a problem with the truth. Telling it, to be exact. You can know she's lying. She can know she's lying. She still sticks to her story.

What in the world do you do with a child like that?!