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My Daughter The Dictator

My kid is one bossy bitc….uhhhhh person.  I think she was a dictator in her past life… and by past life I mean this one.

The Munch has an opinion on just about everything.  She has to choose her outfit every day, and gods forbid I try to slip on Minnie Mouse underpants when she wants Daisy Duck.  The Munch even tries to command what I should wear and whether or not I can roll up my sleeves.

Maybe you are thinking that she is just really into fashion but getting dressed is just the first activity of the day.  It goes on from there into every facet of our existence.

Munch: “Mamma, are you going to eat some oatmeal like me?”

Toni: “No Munch I am fine for now. I am going to have some water first.”

Munch: “No Mamma, have some oatmeal.”

Toni: “Munch I am okay. I am just thirsty right now.”

Munch: “NO MAMMA HAVE SOME OATMEAL!! HAVE A BITE!!”

Toni: “Okay okay…” (So I pretend to take a bite and kind of fake her out… or so I think)

Munch: “Are you eating it?”

Toni: “Yes!”

Munch: “You are chewing it all up?”

Toni: “Yes Munch.” (I am still pretending to be eating the oatmeal)

Munch: “OPEN YOUR MOUTH! LET ME SEE!!!!”

Sometimes I take The Munch for a bike ride where she sits in this carrier I drag behind me.  As I am sweating like a whore in church trying to get up the hill, towing my princess in her chariot, The Munch starts shouting orders and conducting how I ride.

Munch: “Mamma, go faster up the hill.  Faster.  But don’t stand up! Sit back down!! Put your bum back on the seat okay? Sit down but go faster.  Now Mamma, go slower down the hill.”

The other day my brother came over and was chilly.  I offered to get him a sweatshirt, but the Munch wouldn’t let me give him one.

Munch: “NO MAMMA NO!! THAT IS YOUR SWEATSHIRT!!”

Toni: “But your uncle Laszlo is cold and he wants to borrow it.  Do you want him to be cold?”

Munch: “YES!!! I do want him to be cold!”

There are times when we will be sitting and cuddling, and The Munch will start orchestrating exactly how I position my body and hold her.

Munch: “No Mamma, don’t cross your leg.  Put your foot here.  Don’t let your head be floppy! Put it on the pillow. But not that pillow, that’s my pillow.  And hold me this way! Don’t hold my legs. Now tickle my back!”

Although having someone try to choreograph your every move is exhausting, I also respect The Munch’s leadership skills.  Maybe she is prepping to be a politician, or CEO one of these days?  But a politician who isn’t corrupt and greedy (but can totally have sex scandals) or a CEO for an organic-free range-fair trade-sustainable-eco aware-non toxic company of course.

(My lady in her chariot)

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