My Heart Pumps Peanut Butter For You.

This was a favorite saying of a high school teacher of mine. She would pull it out whenever a student would make an excuse, however credible, for not having done their homework, studied for a test, etc.

I thought of it tonight. As some of you have heard by now, today after school Cici was trying out a friend's scooter, and fell headfirst onto the sidewalk. She has a huge goose egg on her forehead, but is otherwise fine.

Anyway, tonight I was putting the girls to bed as usual, and as usual, neither one of them was cooperating very well. I tend to be a little harder on Cici these days, simply because she's older and should know that imitating whatever crap Ruby is trying to pull at the moment is a bad idea.

So, tonight I had reached the final straw with her, and finally I just said to her, "Cecilia, what is going on here? You know what you're supposed to do at bedtime. It's the same every night. You brush your teeth, go potty, get your jammies on, and get into bed. It's the same four things, every single night. So why is it that every night you don't listen to me, and every night you pretend you don't know what you're supposed to do, and every night you let it get to the point where I have to yell at you to get you to do what you know you're supposed to do?"

Silence.

I said, "Well?"

And Cici said: "You know, I got hurt today . . ."