Everything In It’s Place
My whole family spent Saturday putting away Christmas decorations and organizing. While I was packing up the snow globes and attempting to get four tons of glitter out of the couch cushions, my husband kept our five year old preoccupied in her playroom organizing. She had already spent a large portion of the morning helping take the ornaments off the tree, but after almost driving me into apoplexy by swinging my annual Swarovski snowflake ornaments around her little finger like a tassel I banished her to an entirely separate floor of the house. Off she went to organize her toys. This would probably not be a fun thing for most kids, but it seems that my little mini-me may have a predisposition for organizing.
My five year old has roid rage. She was prescribed Prednisolone for a cough last week. The cough is still around but now it’s a little deeper and comes with a punch. Within a few minutes of taking her medicine she is ready to swing at anyone who walks by. It would be easier if she were not taking it right before bed but I am a little apprehensive about sending her out into the world all juiced up. I don’t want her getting sent home from school because she put one of her classmates in a choke hold. After going to school a month ago with a black eye, they might think we are operating a mini fight club in our basement. So she takes her medicine at night and in the time it takes me to rinse out the cup she has changed from my sweet little girl into Lou Ferrigno. I can only see the whites of her eyes as she growls “I don’t need pajamas!” 
A few weeks ago we were at the child care center in our gym. My daughter heard a baby crying and like a parrot started mimicking the cry. I told her that it was not very nice to make fun of someone for crying. I don’t think she even realized it was being mean. I asked her how she would feel if someone made fun of her for crying. She stopped parroting and said “poor, sad baby”. 
We went to see Disney on Ice last weekend, and my child got so caught up in the magic that she became a real princess. As we were walking up the steps from our seats she turned around with a look of panic and said “My shoe, oh no my shoe!” I looked down and sure enough, her shoe had slipped off through the back of the stairs and fell underneath the stands. Quickly, her butler (who also answers to Grandpa) went to check with the guards to see if there was a way to retrieve the slipper. Cinderella sat on the steps crying while all of the other princesses climbed over her having heard the clock strike midnight (and being ushered by their coachmen.) Luckily, Gus and Jaq were there to whisk Cinderella away to her carriage. This was quite a task since Gus was wearing her favorite Michael Kors suede 5″ booties, not having expected to be carrying Cinderella up the stairs. Knowing that Gus is a fellow lover of shoes, Cinderella clung to her all the way to the top of the steps lamenting over her lost slipper. As Gus & Jaq were trying to exchange Cinderella for bottles of water and souvenir popcorn in each others arms the Butler returned with news that the slipper could only be retrieved by going into the bowels of the castle to a dungeon called “guest services” to sign scrolls upon scrolls and present proper identification. Having experienced the village idiots who worked in the dungeon, Gus decided to head straight to the carriage before it turned into a pumpkin. Alas, the carriage was found still a carriage and Cinderella was whisked away having forgotten about her lost slipper at the mention of her fairy godmother’s awaiting birthday cake. Now Gus just needs to find some replacement slippers before the next ball.
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