One minute Girl child is sweet as roses and candy. How does that rhyme go? Sugar and spice and all things nice? Yep, that's her. Then the next minute my sweet little girl is gone and in her place is a yellow-eyed demon bent on world domination or destruction; take your pick. I'm getting whiplash from her mood swings.
Boy child is acting out in other ways, but none of them comparable to his little sister.
I know it's her age. She's exactly two weeks away from her 10th birthday. I know exactly what's going on (I am, after all - a girl, too), but that doesn't mean I have to like it.
Nothing I've said, done, or yes, even threatened, has worked and I'm about ready to climb a tree, build a fort, and stay there until she's 18. My fort will be lined with lovely jewel-colored pillows with golden fringe, embroidered elephants, and tiny mirrors sewn into the fabric. Tapestries hanging from the ceiling. A thick, soft mat on the floor to sleep on. Electricity, of course. Maybe a little one-eyed stove for cooking tea or broth. I could live on tea and broth, right?
Of course, I'd have to seriously consider the work situation. Do I leave the comfort and serenity of my beautiful tree fort every day for work? They have showers at work after all, and smelling good might be, well...a good idea. Especially if I'm facing the public. Or, do I tuck tail, request a token for secure remote access, and work from home?
I think the whole showering thing probably wins that argument for me.