Last night was band instrument rental night for Bette. Talk about a strange journey! There were hundreds of parents shoved into the bleachers looking miserable with just as many squiggling, chatting, and laughing kids shoved in between us. The gym was so hot the fat guy next to me had armpit sweat stains by time we all stood up to leave. Bette wasn't bothered one bit by the claustrophobic conditions as we were all herded to the basement to visit the tables of the instrument stores that came to fight for sales/rental agreements. Oh wait - that's because the instant we walked into the basement she tore off with 3 friends for the cookie table. Do you think she brought me a cookie? Nope. On the ride home I was a little upset over the financial aspects of renting an instrument and how I had to sign away my life just to get the store to rent to me. Not to mention I was hot and crowded for the past 90 minutes. From the backseat, where Bette had gotten real quiet, comes "My tummy hurts." I automatically thought it was because she could sense my disposition. I swallowed the guilt of making her stomach hurt by projecting my worries onto her asked her what was making her sick to her stomach. She groaned and replied "I ate three small cookies. Then I stuck 3 more into a napkin to bring home to Fern. But they were so squishy and smelled so good - and I ate them. Too many cookies."
I learned three things from that conversation:
- My daughter doesn't pay nearly as much attention to me as I give her credit for
- My daughter was sweet enough to get Fern some cookies - the same Fern she will insist she can't stand
- My daughter has my will power when it comes to cookies
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