Daddy's Girl

We have a fun game around here of "who's girl are you?" It is very lighthearted and the girls take turns saying who's girl they are (mommy or daddy's) and Jason and I give hugs, kisses and big smiles when one of them picks us. They usually waver back and forth many times before the game finally ends.

Well, today was a rough day. I was on the phone - a lot - booking flights to California, the girls were bored, dinner was late, and I had the audacity to expect the girls to clean the playroom. Actually, not even the whole playroom. I had only asked that Jonah put away the blocks and Barbies and that Jorja put the dress-up clothes back in the bins. Well, after more than an hour of reminding and redirecting, I had had enough. A box of toys that I had separated out earlier this year left the room amid cries of "is it going in the trash?" Then I came back with a trash bag and began to stuff the dress-up clothes in. It was madness. I explained calmly...OK, I was pretty worked up, so calm was not even remotely possible...but I told them that the dress-up would come back when they were able to clean up what was already in there. Jonah sat bawling her eyes out that everything was going to end up in the dumpster. Not sure where that came from becuase we don't have a dumpster, but apparently, that's where dress-up clothes go until kids grow up and go get them for their daughters. Or so it was explained to me.

I was quick to point out that I had many more trash bags outside, and they better save the rest of the toys from the same fate by picking them up and putting them in their place before I had a chance to go get another. This got more response than anything else, and the playroom was mostly clean when I finally got so tired of waiting for Jason's meeting to end that I declared it was a MacDonald's night and to get in the van. Thankfully, Jason called while I was herding them to the garage and he pulled up just in time to hop into the van and drive.

The girls were in the back while we went through the drive through barking their orders at us. Like that has ever worked before. Finally, I made some unloving comments about being quiet and liking what they were given, and got a look from Jason that read "these are your kids you're talking to!" and I calmed down. One finger shake too late, though. From the back came the words "Daddy, I'm you're girl." Jason looked back at Jonah to ask why and was met with the most serious answer a grouchy seven year old could muster. "Because all I get to do all day is sit around the house cleaning up and getting yelled at by HER!"

I was dumbstruck, and couldn't help but snicker silently to myself while Jason handled the situation.

Sadly, Jonah is no longer my girl, I am no longer mommy. I have been reduced to her. At least until tomorrow morning.