Maren is going through this phase. At least, I hope it's a phase. She cries at everything. Not a real cry, mind you, a screamy-pay-attention-to-me cry. It's maddening. In every sense of the word. Plus, it's worse in the morning.
I counted today and she cried over 14 different things between the bed and the babysitter's door, including, but not limited to: me not rolling down her car window, her arm getting wet and not having Kai Lan on her panties.
Just a few short weeks ago, I could count on Maren to pop out of bed like a jack-in-the-box and run happily through the house demanding that everyone share her joy at being alive. Spoiler alert - no one else is overjoyed at being alive in my house until at least 9. I don't typically get there until about 11.
Brynna started out as a morning person and then outgrew it, too. Honestly, I think it's better this way. Being a morning person in my house is setting yourself up for a lifetime of disappointment.
Last night, at church, we were talking about a conference we want to attend. After some discussion, it came about that we would have to leave the church at 6 a.m. "Let's leave earlier and head to Denny's," the pastor enthused. "Let's not and cruise McDonald's," was my answer. And even then, I'll be grumpy. And we won't even address the husband issue, as he is not even civil before lunch most days.
They are doomed. Doomed.
You know, though, I don't mind it. From my perspective, the whining and crying is less annoying that the chipper, happy skippiness. And I'm holding out hope that she'll outgrow the wailing part of it and turn into a regular old grump. Like Brynna. Who informed me this morning in no uncertain terms that it didn't matter how many times I laid out that outfit -she was NOT going to wear it because it did NOT match -at all. Harumph.
It was about at this time that Maren burst into tears because the cat was in her room.
Please tell me this is just a phase...