Ah, The Irony...
My six-year-old daughter was grounded yesterday. Why you might ask? Because the night before she threw a complete temper tantrum at bedtime. She was absolutely convinced there were mice in her bedroom (it's on the second floor) and that they were going to "get" her. Now, I can understand childhood fears, but I commisserated with her, explained there were no mice in our house, and then lost it when she wouldn't stop screaming. It's one thing to cry and be upset, it's another to FREAK OUT. At any other time I would have just shut the door and left her alone, but she got her three-year-old brother started, and that was the end of my patience.
So...grounded. A full day. Can't get in control even when I tell you the truth? So be it.
Fast forward to today...
After a full morning of working, I went out to the refrigerator in the garage to get myself a diet Dr. Pepper (needed a caffeine boost). And as I'm walking back across the garage (in my bare feet even!) what do I feel? A FREAKIN' MOUSE! The little bastard ran right across my foot and darted into a pile of shoes.
Do you remember those episodes of Tom and Jerry where the mistress of the house sees a mouse, screams and jumps on a table, then dances all around? Oh yeah, that was me. I screamed bloody murder, ran into the house, locked the door (please...like a tiny mouse can open a door!), and refused to go back into the garage the rest of the day. When my big, brave husband came home, I sent him to find the darn thing and KILL IT!.
Of course, now my conscience is getting the best of me. I'm really in a pickle.
*biting lip here*
Darling daughter was at school when this happened, so she didn't witness her mother FREAK OUT. The little devil on my shoulder is telling me not to say a word - what she doesn't know won't hurt her. I am the adult here after all, aren't I? But that damn angel on the other side is yelling "hypocrite" loudly in my ear.
What to do...what to do...
The ironic truth is...if I thought there were mice in my bedroom...you couldn't pay me money to stay in that room.
So...grounded. A full day. Can't get in control even when I tell you the truth? So be it.
Fast forward to today...
After a full morning of working, I went out to the refrigerator in the garage to get myself a diet Dr. Pepper (needed a caffeine boost). And as I'm walking back across the garage (in my bare feet even!) what do I feel? A FREAKIN' MOUSE! The little bastard ran right across my foot and darted into a pile of shoes.
Do you remember those episodes of Tom and Jerry where the mistress of the house sees a mouse, screams and jumps on a table, then dances all around? Oh yeah, that was me. I screamed bloody murder, ran into the house, locked the door (please...like a tiny mouse can open a door!), and refused to go back into the garage the rest of the day. When my big, brave husband came home, I sent him to find the darn thing and KILL IT!.
Of course, now my conscience is getting the best of me. I'm really in a pickle.
*biting lip here*
Darling daughter was at school when this happened, so she didn't witness her mother FREAK OUT. The little devil on my shoulder is telling me not to say a word - what she doesn't know won't hurt her. I am the adult here after all, aren't I? But that damn angel on the other side is yelling "hypocrite" loudly in my ear.
What to do...what to do...
The ironic truth is...if I thought there were mice in my bedroom...you couldn't pay me money to stay in that room.
posted by Elisabeth Naughton at 11:42 AM
2Comments:
don't be scared about pitching. Unless your story is totally off base for the agent or editor they generally always ask you to send them a partial. No matter how badly you stammer! Believe me, I know!
Okay here I go again! I wrote all this once and didn't leave my comment rigth I guess???
Anyway, I feel you and your daughter's mice phobia. When we were first married, we lived in a hovel, mouse infested - I shudder thinking of it.
My husband drove truck and would be gone several days in a row. One night while I was sitting up late reading. (you could hear the mice in the walls) One pointy-nosed, beady eyed mouse stuck his head out the corner of my dresser (which was only about a foot away from the bed). I swung my legs and slammed that drawer shut as hard has I could. When my husband returned a few days later, he took out the dead mouse.
Then when I was 8 months pregnant, I was bent over turning on the bath tub faucets and a mouse ran up my leg under my pants! I screamed and danced around trying to shake the Damn thing out of my pants and my husband just roared with laughter! To this day when I see even a gray blur, I scream and head for higher ground! So I feel for you and your daughter. I know the phobia! And I would say if you can talk to your daughter explain you understand her being scared fo the mouse, but it can't come in the house (if yours is as mouse proof as our new house :) )
And tell her she is being grounded for not calming down and going to sleep not her being scared of a mouse.
My two cents!
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