Behold, the Drama Queen!

The Drama Queen was mad (read: INFURIATED BEYOND BELIEF) at me for grounding her last night, for reasons I’ll not go in to here. She called to me from her bedroom, “Moooom.”
“What, [Drama Queen]?”
“I need you to come here and look at something outside my door, and then sign it, if that’s what you want me to do.”

Outside her bedroom door is her little yellow suitcase, with a note on top that reads something along the lines of, “I’m going to live somewhere else. If this is what you want me to do MOM sign here X_________________________”

So I ask her through the closed door, “[Drama Queen], where will you live?”

“I don’t know. I’ll just have to find me a place.”

[Yes, she actually said “find me a place.” Like she’s apartment-hunting or something.]

“And how will you find you a place?”
“With my bike.”
“But you’re only allowed to go three houses down.”
“But I’m running away.”
“Well, you’re STILL only allowed to go three houses down.”
“Well, I’ll go live with R.” [The little girl (like maybe…two years old?) that lives down the street (the whole three houses down the street) and whose mother has substituted in The Drama Queen’s class a time or two.]

“I guess you’d better go talk to R’s mother about that, then.”

She comes out of her room, grabs her suitcase and heads to the front door. So I say, “Hang on. Let me get [Baby Boy]. I’ll go with you.”

At which point she pauses, looks at me and says, “Mom, you KNOW I’m only kidding.” But the tone…..ah, the tone she used was soooo not kidding. It was not, Hey this is just a big joke we have. It was, You just totally pissed me off for calling my bluff.

Oh, and the suitcase? I peeked into it while she was in the shower. Empty. Heh.


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