Jill threw a fit. A big one. Really big. First I took away outside playtime. Then TV. Then a friend tomorrow after school. Then she picked up the chair in her room, poised to throw it at me.
"Ohhh don't you dare. You throw that chair at me, and I swear to you I will cancel your Christmas party on Sunday. Jiiiilllll. Don't you do it......"
She did it. Threw the chair. At me. And screamed.
Great. Now I told her she can't have the party. The one that eight six-year-old girls RSVPed to. The one that I already bought gingerbread and candy for. The one that I spent three hours making invitations for ten girls for. Why oh why did I open my mouth?
Think, Tricia. Think. How are you going to get yourself out of this? Lightbulb! Ding, ding, ding! Bells! Whistles! Streamers from the ceiling!
"Look, Jill. I can't cancel your party, because that would punish the girls we invited. That would not be fair. So instead, you can't go to Ethan's party on Saturday."
Tears. Big fat tears. "Noooooo Mommy. Nooooo. I am sorry."
"Consequences, Jill. Consequences."
Heehee. Maybe someone should tell her she wasn't going to that party anyway. I called his mom two days ago to let her know Jill would be at my parent's house, and couldn't make it. Hahahaha.