Spilled Milk

My youngest daughter is a high-energy, needy, attention-hound. It's not her fault - it's just part of her personality. She cannot entertain herself and will deliberately do something to garner my attention if I don't happen to be giving enough of it to her.

Often she will walk into the room, sigh dramatically, and ask "what can I do???" To which I am often likely to respond, "I don't know, what do I look like - Julie McCoy???" I mean really, I don't get paid to be the cruise director here, kid. Unfortunately, parenting guides advise against the use of sarcasm with young kids. Apparently it can come off sounding mean. So I try to limit such comments to once a day at the most.

The problem is, I really love my kids, but I really don't enjoy playing Candy Land and Chutes and Ladders. If they catch me in the morning, somewhere after I've had my first two cups of coffee and read the paper, but before lunchtime rolls around, I just might be in the mood to get down on the floor with them and play.

But by mid afternoon, the mom weariness begins to kick in. I've only gotten half-way through my to-do list, I have the energy of a sloth, and I'm a mere two hours away from having to think about dinner. I still have to attempt some writing, find the bottle of laundry detergent that I sat down somewhere in this house, and, oh, clean up the milk that she just spilled all over the bottom shelf of the refrigerator in an attempt to get my attention. Mission accompished - four-year-old, one point, mom, zero.