I had high hopes for our day of flying home. Before the plane had even got off the ground, these hopes were trampled in the mud. We sat down and Zannah grabbed two fistfuls of my hair. A grip of iron doesn't do it justice. Her grip is phenomenal, it should be in the Guinness Book of World Records.
Passenger after passenger boarded and stared as they walked pass the poor mom who couldn't control her child and was going bald in the process. I tried prying her hands from my hair to no avail. Then I bribed her with anything in my power: candy, milk, peanut-butter sandwich, toys, crayons, books, cell phone, new car when she turns 16 and still nothing. Mind you, she isn't screaming or crying, she just has a look of complete and utter determination.
Finally the last passenger had no choice but to try and scoot past us to sit in the last available seat. I never saw the expression on her face because my head was being jerked downward. After 10 minutes nothing had changed except very little of my hair was still in the ponytail it started in.
I couldn't decide whether to cry out of pain, cry from humiliation, or cry due to anger at the increasing number of spectators. People were beginning to nudge each other and turn around for a better look. And since people were already staring I seriously considered giving into my urge to pull Zannah's hair back. Now that would be good watching! At last Zannah decided to have mercy, she turned around, sat in my lap and head bunted me in the face for good measure.
If somehow Marcus and I can guide this intensity and strength and stubborness Missy Z has into something positive, all will be well in the world.
P.S. After a one-on-one review and intense therapy regarding this last week in Idaho, Zannah has some apologies she wants to give.
---Charlotte, sorry I flushed your toothbrush down the toilet.
---Claire, I'm really sorry I shattered your teapot
---Damon, I kinda feel bad about swirling your toothbrush in the toilet, I'm more sorry I got caught.
---Grandma, Sorry about the mirror I shattered and the milk, juice, and water I continously spilled and for coloring on your door with crayon.
---Jen, Remember that day in the quilt store? I feel bad I kept ripping emroidery floss off the rack and making you, 8 months pregnant, get down on your knees and pick them up.
---Black Cat, I'm sorry I strangled you and then tried to ride you.
Love, Zannah
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
10 comments:
I'm so sorry! Jimmy has that "can't be broken" spirit as well. It does soften and become more kind and loving at times. But it is killer. Sounds like "a trip." Wowzers. Just keep breathing.
I hate that your mishap on the plane brings a smile to my face, but i can't not laugh because i know the exact feelings you felt. oh the joys of being a mom!
This reminds me of my Kinzie! I love how you write stories! Makes me feel as if I was a part of a plane ride with a poor women and her determined and revengeful daughter!!! :)
Ha, Ha! That's hysterical (because it didn't happen to me).
i dread flying with a child under two...no wonder they're free! you should have pulled her hair back just to get some reactions :) i prob. would've lost my temper and done it anyhow!!!
Are there any feelings of "this must be payback"? And--how come we didn't know you were in Idaho/Utah?
GOOD LUCK! And this too shall pass. (My mantra.)
Lynsey, I feel you pain honey. I have a child the exact same age with the same personality. Some times the thought of leaving the house makes me cry. So, I can't imagine taking that on a plane ride. You are brave. Soon, she will learn to say "Sarshy" (Sorry) and for some reason for just a moment you feel better because at least they thought to apologize even though their next reaction shows no sign of caring about you.
Oh dear! Such a fighter and she's not even two. That determination will do her good one day.
Oh Lynsey... that is so funny!!! But I am sorry. There is nothing worse plane trips with toddlers. At least everyone was just laughing at you instead of swearing at you which I have had.
Post a Comment