In which Medium has a mad.

I, having overdone it today, am currently resting in bed. Medium snivels, sniffs, and sulks into the master bath, plastic bags in hand. It appears she's drawn the chore of emptying the small trash cans.

Me: What's wrong?

Medium: Nothing!

Me: Why are you crying?

Medium: I jus' tol' you. Nothing!

I almost pointed out that she was talking to the Queen of Nothing, but managed to refrain.

Me: Then why are you mad?

Medium: I don't wanna talk about it. It's only about me. It doesn't have to do with anyone else!

Me (texting Hubby): Okay.

Silence ensues for a moment as Medium struggles with the trash can.

Medium: Damn!

Me: What did you say?

Medium (with the same frustration as before): Damn!

Me: We don't use that word. Have you been hearing kids at school say that?

Medium: No.

Me: Well, we don't say that here.

Medium: I forgot!

Riiiiiiight.

Me: Where have you been hearing it?

Medium: Stawr Twek.

Now I know she hasn't really forgotten, because we had this same conversation several months ago, almost verbatim, and that was about the time Hubby stopped letting the kids watch ST:TNG with him. Medium's memory rivals an elephant's.

Me: Ah. Don't use it again.

And I left it at that. There was no need to take it further.

The plastic grocery bags rustled.

Medium: It's dese twrash cans dat awre the pwroblem!

Me: What?

Medium: It's my chohwres! I don't wanna hafta do chohwres! I don't wanna gwrow up! I just wanna die!

Me (mildly): Then thank goodness you're only six.

Medium: No, it's not dat!

Me: Not what?

Medium: What you just said!

Me: You're only six, thank goodness?

Medium: It's not thank goodness! I don't like chohwres! An' then when I'm done...

Gramma (from the hallway): I have a project I need little girls to help with!

Medium: ...I'm gonna go to my room!

Me: If you want to go to your room and sulk when you're done rather than help Gramma, that's your decision.

Hubby walked in after Medium left and his text response chimed in.

Hubby: She wanted to go play with Gramma rather than do her one chore.

By show of hands, who here was not surprised that Medium popped back into the bedroom a few minutes later, all smiles?

Medium: Momma, how many twrash cans do we haff in the house?

While I thought (12, if you're interested), Medium took the opportunity to ambush love on Mika. She grabbed him and squeezed him in a tight but gentle body hug.

Medium: You'wre just so cute, yes, you awre! You're sooooo soft!

She looked at me.

Medium: I love Mika.

And that, ladies and gents, is about how it is here... All. The. Time.