My day began quite early this morning with the frustrated grunts of my three year old. She SEEMED to be playing nicely by herself upstairs in her bedroom (Legos?) – no need to check on her. I could just relax in bed and enjoy the last few minutes of darkness before the sun brightened up my world. The grunts turned into whining. And then into sobbing.
“MOMMMMMYYYYY!!!” she cried and I jumped out of bed. All sorts of horrific scenes raced through my mind.
She met me at her doorway, tears dripping down her cheeks, “They don’t work, Mommy. None of the glow sticks work and the wings won’t stick to Barbie’s back!” She grabbed my hand and led to her bed, “Look. See, Mommy? I wanted to make all the Barbies into fairies and give them magic wands. Just like Tinkerbell.” She picked up a “glow stick” to show me, “See, Mommy? I tried breaking all of them but none of them will work! NO FAIR!!”