Ambush!

It was while she was struggling with the command get dressed for bed, loitering in the doorway of the bathroom, pouting, staring at the floor when she quietly uttered her thought out loud, "I wish I could lose you."

"What does this mean, lose me, Alyssa?"

"If I lost you I could get a new mom." The rules according to my four-year-old.

I tried to dissuade her, "Where would you find a new mom? New moms are expensive, you know."

"In Pennsylvania" she says, as if she just perused the catalogue in the bathroom.

"I've got three dollars saved up!", Lewis chimed in, "That's a lot of money!"

Not enough, my little man, "What Mom would want to clean up after you or clip your monster toenails for $3.00?"

"Santa will bring me a new mom", Alyssa says.

"Yeah, his elves are probably wrapping her up right now!", says Lewis.

"Why do you want a new mom?", I ask.

"Because you are a mean mom! I don't want to go to bed! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

And the meltdown begins.
I try the oldest trick in the book:

"You know, Santa is watching you. If you don't behave, what happens?" -Testing their superior Santa knowledge.

"That's right," Lewis connects the dots, "He won't come at all. And then the deer won't eat the carrots, and Santa won't eat the biscuits & drink his glass of beer!"




(Thanks, Hillary!)