In a miraculously quiet start to the day, I am sitting here in my little library, reading; Geoff is upstairs sleeping; and all three kids are crafting together in the sunroom, two rooms away. Matthew got them all set up at the little round table together, with a tub of markers between them as well as glue and scissors. I left the doors open between our rooms so that I can monitor the situation and intervene if necessary, but it's been about twenty rather pleasant minutes...until a few moments ago.
I can hear everything they say...in fact, I'm not getting much reading done because I love listening to their conversation. For the last few minutes, Lizzie has been telling the boys about how Mommy let her use scissors (a big deal and not always a permission granted because she's already cut her way through two of her cutest shirts!). The boys responded at first by saying nice things about that, but as she's continued to 'brag' about being able to use scissors, their responses have grown a little more terse.
Then, apparently, Lizzie wanted to clean up some of her scissor scraps because I heard her telling the boys that she needed the garbage can so that she could tidy things up. Now, that sounds like an honourable thing to want to do - who wouldn't want her daughter to initiate an activity that involved cleaning up. The problem is that, although the garbage can is on Lizzie's side of the table, it is just out of arm's reach for her...so she would have to stand up and actually take a step in order to reach the garbage can and pull it closer to the table. Which she clearly doesn't feel inclined to do.
So, after asking both boys in turn to "get" the garbage can for her, and after being refused on both occasions and told to get it herself, she has resorted to her oft-used tactic of annoying them into submission to her will. She's got on her cute-but-oh-so-annoying voice, which she has turned into a sing-songy little chant, and is saying the following over and over and over again:
"I need the garbage Seth, I need the garbage Seth, I need the garbage Seth, I need the garbage Seth, I need the garbage Seth, I need the garbage Seth, I need the garbage Seth, I need the garbage Seth, I need the garbage Seth, I need the garbage Seth, I need the garbage Seth, I need the garbage Seth..."
You get the idea. She's bugging the living daylights out of the boys, and all in that little chanting voice which will go unchanged until she gets what she wants!
And then I heard, just seconds ago, Seth's impatient screech, which sounds as if he can't take even another grating syllable from Lizzie:
"Lizzie! Stop it!! I just can't hear dat anymore. You didn't even ask nicely. You get the garbage can."
Lizzie, without even ceasing for a moment to listen to Seth: "I need the garbage Seth, I need the garbage Seth, I need the garbage Seth, I need the garbage Seth..."
And so she goes. Quintessential. Princess. Lizzie.
With another shriek (I can almost see him covering his ears to block out her voice), Seth just stomped to his feet and I could hear his chair flying back against the wall. I could hear him stomping somewhere, and a second later heard the garbage can slam down hard onto the floor - apparently beside Lizzie.
Lizzie: "Thank you Seth...took a long time."
I am gritting my teeth on Seth's behalf. Yikes, that girl (and her reluctantly-accommodating brother!)! But once again, there's peace over there...at least until Lizzie figures out what she wants delivered next.