Allow me for a moment to slide into a cliched rant on my daughter's recent regression to child-raised-by-wolves. In the past, her most ardent stabs at ill-advised independence have been easily redirected. Now, she tells me no and sticks to it. Her selective hearing is in zero volume mode 80% of the day. Yesterday, she held her pee until it was physically painful to release it (there's a little story or her first therapy session). Removing her bathing suit is literally like trying to skin a live cat with your bare hands. Magazines are ripped from my hands and my hands are grabbed forcefully whenever I try to type for more than a minute (I am able to type now because she is in her room stewing over whether or not to put on clean panties, as I have requested). We have a strict limit of one glass of chocolate milk per day, so Violet now refuses to drink anything else. The sweet cherub enjoys pooping in her potty and waiting for the smell to inform us that she should probably have a little wipe down (ah, more therapy fodder). I'm just glad I don't have anywhere to go, because if I had to be patient and punctual five days a week you might see blood coming out of my ears.
4 hours ago
