Lucy is growing up very quickly; filled with opinions and self-direction that is not always in line with my needs.
Last night Lucy was being a pistol, bickering about everything. It felt like it was one tantrum after another. I sent her to her room, and sighed heavily to my son’s aide.
Mentally exhausted, I went back to making home made meat balls, and dough for calzone. [see? we don't eat junk food *all* the time.]
Lucy yelled a bit more, and I told her from down the hall, that no one was going to speak to her until she used a kind voice.
Her response? “Mother, you are being hateful and mean!”
The aide told me, “When they say things like that, that’s when you know you’re doing your job.”
I responded with pride, “I KNOW. She just said that with the nicest tone.”
