Corporate Temper Tantrums

Today I was telling the Editor Across the Aisle about the little angel's recent sleeping problems. I have to give her props - the little angel, that is - because Monday night and Tuesday night she slept through the night for the first time since May 3.  (Let's observe a moment of silence for children who occasionally sleep.  Ahhhhh.)

Anyway, on Sunday night, the little angel woke up at three in the morning.  She clamored for about a half an hour about wanting milk. I told her no, sleepy. It's time to sleepy.  She said no, the milk.  I said no, the sleepy.  In response to this, she grabbed the edge of her toddler bed and jumped up and down.  I almost laughed, as her flair for the melodramatic is come by honestly. (Ahem.)

After this, she laid down on her bed and kicked her pudgy feet vehemently on her Ebayed Laura Ashley beach-scene sheets. I held firm.

Then she asked to go downstairs and lay down with me on the couch. This sounded like an awesome alternative to the drama scene unfolding in her bedroom, but again with the firmness.  No, I said.  Sleepy.

Then she said she was poopy. (Liar, liar, pants on fire.)  I offered to change her diaper, which she accepted, thinking it was part of the negotiating process.

It wasn't.

Finally, she laid down and accepted her water cup. She bit the top of her Nuby, said it was leaking, and threw it at my head.

I said, no, sleepy.

I handed her back the cup.

We went back and forth like this, with her alternately pummeling her feet and throwing the cup at my head until I finally won and she went to sleep with said leaky cup cradled in her arm like a baby.

About halfway through this story, the Editor mentioned her water cup was leaking.  She said that every time she takes a drink out of it, it dribbles on her pants. It has made her fear the drinking of the water, but she insists on drinking it anyway. I think this has something to do with the fact that she is from Iowa, and believes in the power of wearing a dress that she got for $5.27 at T.J. Maxx to not one but two black-tie affairs in the past month.  I did not mention this. (I bet she's dribbling now, reading about it.)

Me:  "I know that what you really want to do is throw that water cup at my head."

Editor:  "I do, and even though I do seriously believe that you would kill me, I want to do it anyway.  Just to see the look on your face."

I almost peed myself laughing.  I can just see the headlines now:  Cube-mate Killed In Toddler Re-enactment.