We headed out Saturday morning after my Weight Watchers meeting (I only lost a 1/2 pound, but it's better than a poke in the eye, so I'll take it). I had planned to leave earlier than we did, but when you have to yell, "PUT YOUR SHOES ON!" at someone for 45 minutes straight, your travel schedule tends to unravel a bit. We drove to our destination and had lunch at a deli/ice cream parlor. The restaurant has a carousel out front so of course she had to ride that. I would have ridden it with her except that she told me I had to stand by the gate and hold her blue moon ice cream cone. Thank goodness she left me with a flavor I don't like. Had it been chocolate or mint chocolate chip, I would've had some 'splainin' to do when the ride ended. After that, we headed downtown to the farmers' market and then did a little shopping (I needed to buy a Father's Day gift). By mid-afternoon, we had checked into the hotel and were in the swimming pool ten minutes later.
A is getting to be a pretty good swimmer. I did bring along one of those foam noodles for her. She wraps it under her arms to give her a bit of buoyancy as she paddles about. We had this conversation when we were in the pool:
Me: What do you want to be when you grow up?
Her: A princess.
Me: Well, that's not really a job. You'd have to marry a prince in order to be a princess.
Her: Oh, I don't want to have a job.
Me: You need to make money somehow, Goober.
Her: Maybe I'll work on cars.
Me (not wanting to discourage her, but also knowing that this occupation is probably incompatible with someone who only wears dresses and screams if she gets a blade of wet grass stuck to her ankle): Oh, okay.
Her: Or maybe I'll be a worker at Target. Then I can use my money to buy Icees.
Me: Good thinking.
She also announced that she is changing her name to Elizabeth. When I told her she can't do that, she seemed incredulous. "You mean I have to stay what you named me?" I'm glad I agonized over her name for years on end before she was born, since she was willing to chuck it on a whim.
Our hotel room had two beds, which is exactly what I wanted. However, when it came time to go to bed, my daughter turned to me with sad eyes and a frowny face and said, "Mom, can't you sleep in the bed with me?" I had visions of a little size 11 foot planted in my kidney all night but said, "Sure." Sure enough, she kicked me from 10:30 p.m. to 4:00 a.m., when I finally gave up and moved to the other bed. It was like sleeping with "the beast of a thousand legs" or something, I tell you.
On Sunday, we worked at the pet expo and headed back home by mid-afternoon. We handed out flyers and chatted with a few strangers. A is obsessed with little dogs and asked to pet every Chihuahua and Rat Terrier she could find. Fortunately, most of the owners were good sports about it. One lady didn't mince words and said, "he doesn't like you." I don't think the kid believed her, as I don't think she can conceive of anyone not being in her fan club.
So, that was our weekend. I don't think Short Stuff got enough sleep, because she was having meltdowns every thirty seconds or so by the time bedtime rolled around. I picked up one item off the floor three times and told her I would throw it away if I found it on the floor again. Sure enough, it made its way back to the carpet so I tossed it. Oh, the wailing that ensued! Then she unloaded this: "You don't even love me! You don't want me to be your daughter! You don't think I'm the right daughter for you!" Ah, how many years to go until she is a teenager?