Wednesday, November 2, 2011

The Girl Went Mental

I have no idea what happened.

Without much announcement at around dinner time last night my daughter erupted. She'd been a little bit iffy during the afternoon, but I was not expecting anything like that. I had to drive the kids out to pick up their mother from work as her car is in the shop. All fine at that point. Her mood was good even if the horrendous guffing clouds of pure hellish miasma that she was chuffing out were not. They were so astonishingly awful that my wife actually double checked with me to find out if we had driven headfirst into a dead whale carcass sprayed with sulfur and dipped in John Prescott's diarrhea. Nope - it's that tiny girl behind me. My wife had contracted a cold at the school Halloween party. Mostly she's been unexposed to a big fat room filled with disease-ridden kids. Knowing that the Thanksgiving holiday is fast approaching her body seemed to be simulating the rapid rate of infection and decline that the dying natives displayed after the colonists introduced them to smallplox and influenza. So when we got home she lay dying on the couch.

As I had to pick her up I hadn't made dinner. So at 5.30 there was nothing planned and I was taking a five minute breather from the day. I asked my daughter if she was hungry and she said no. Obviously she meant, "Yes - I think I'm dying." Thirty seconds later she demanded to know why I was starving her to death. At this point I want you to try and overlook what I'm about to tell you and consider all the other wonderful loving things that I've done for my family to date. Because for dinner I made these -:

My wife was already mad that I even had them in the house. My daughter feigned (I know this in hindsight) excitement at the prospect of them. Twenty minutes later (I could have nuked them in 90 seconds - but they were already going to be gross enough) they were on a plate and we were huddled around the kitchen table looking at 8 tiny pathetic circles. I - bravely and heroically - struggled through my own dinner of pork loin, mashed potato and roast leek and carrots left over from the day before. A real trooper. My daughter refused to eat. I gave her some apple sauce - admittedly to make me feel better about the shit that I'd given her to eat. Uninterested. My wife and I then made a comment or two about how she hasn't been eating dinner lately so she has to eat something.

And that's when she went mental. She just started ranting, "I love chicken. I love pork. I love cake. I love carrots and ranch dressing." On and on and on. She was horrified that we would dare suggest she doesn't like any kinds of food. Then slightly ruined that point (though not really) by then pointing at the ugly little cheese disc in front of her and saying emphatically, "but I don't love this." For the next thirty minutes she made a constant wobbling screaming wailing noise. She did that vibrating gasping thing kids do when they can't calm down but insist on trying to talk. She shook violently, screamed, rolled around on the ground, and cried and cried. She didn't want or ask for anything. She wouldn't and couldn't just calm down.

So we all went upstairs and my wife told her she was putting her to bed. More wailing - she wanted Daddy to do it. Nope - my wife wanted a chat. Ten minutes later I'm wandering the living room trying to walk my son to sleep when once I again I hear, "but I love chicken. And I love potato. And I love..." This was followed a few minutes later by what sounded like an electric dolphin sound being played through a Roland TB-303. That would be my daughter exploding with emotion when my wife suggested that my daughter might be unhappy about her being in work. Apparently not then.

Then she fell asleep. That was it. This morning she's fine. Not a single residue left over. The first thing she did this morning in bed was sing her version of Row Your Boat after being offended that I sang, "Row Row Row Your Goat..." She had to correct me. Although her version ends with, "Uh Oh, Fooled You, I'm a submarine." instead of the party that goes "merrilly...". Since then she's been good as gold. She;s been bombing around the house telling her brother to poke, "the worlds fattest belly" and sticking it out at him. And also chasing her Super Bouncey Mega Ball, with it's newly-born Baby Mega Ball.

We will never be able to explain what happened. Or harness the power she generated to power the North East. It wasn't an overindulgence in anything. I can't learn anything from something like that. But what I do know is that next time I'm going to video it.

And to never ever allow Smart Ones products into my house ever again.

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