Always and forever. And Terrible.

Medium Fry has just been disciplined for stomping and throwing a tantrum.

Through her tears, she cries my name.  "You'll still love me, wright?"

"Always.  I'll always love you."

*sniffles*

"And you'll nevewr..." *snuffle*

"I'll never say I don't love you.  I will always love you."


And Hubby recently outlawed telling me that I'm mean.  The other day, Small Fry was being belligerent, as only a four-year-old can, and really mouthing off, shouting, "You'wre MEAN!"  (I told her to get dressed.  I'm awful, aren't I?)

It's waaaaaaaaaay past bedtime.  But the Fries were in desperate need of baths, so I'm supervising the two not getting bathed while he does the bathing.  The twin Fries are clean, and Large Fry is getting a bath, and I realize that the twins are pulling out toys left and right.  And now wearing dress-up clothes over their jammies.

I told Small Fry to take off the dress-up clothes and put them away, even the animal hats.  This caused Medium to have a conniption, which then resulted in more discipline because she started shrieking and screaming and stomping her feet, gearing up for a major tantrum.  I know she's tired, but still...I confiscate the animal hats.  Then Small Fry refuses to put away toys.

Her arm hurts, she says.  The same arm that had the sequined armband on it.  "Did you break it?" I asked.

"Yes!" she says with a grin and a giggle.

"C'mere."  I squeeze her forearm and bend it at the elbow several times.  "You're fine.  Go put away toys."

She dawdles.  And fiddles.  "Put. Toys. AWAY."

"But..."

"Put. Toys. Away."

"I have to tell you somefing!"

"No.  You have to do what I told you to.  Put toys away."

Small Fry almost growls.  "You'wre...you'wre..."  You can almost see the wheels turning as she searches for an adjective other than mean.  "You'wre tewwrrible!"