Her tales of her family, especially of Maj, 11, and Kallan, almost 9, are side-splitting, to say the least.So, sit back, relax, and be ready to question "Is this what I did to my mom??"...since her stories are all true.
Or are they??
Office Ladees – By Kris
My younger daughter Kallan is almost 9 now, and she is a handful. She has always been a handful. Always.
When she was 6, and just starting 1st grade, over the course of a few days, she did all of the following things:
1) Hit her older sister Maj over the head with an umbrella in order to “protect” her from an invisible bug.
2) Stole a doll from her sister Maj’s bedroom that she claimed loved her more than it loved Maj.
3) Gave that doll an unfortunate haircut.
4) Scooped a huge handful of goodness out of the middle of a cake I had baked, and then tried to blame the dogs for this misbehavior.
5) Got in trouble at school for talking during class about how the substitute teacher? Was not as smart as she thought she was.
6) Dumped an entire container of fish food into the fish tank, and then insisted that she had only “waved” to the fish, and that the fish had himself climbed out to get the food.
7) Wrote on the hallway walls outside of her sister’s room in Sharpie marker . . . “Maj did tihs. Maj did tihs. Maj did tihs.”
8) When confronted, denied wrongdoing, and agreed that it was strange and tragic that her 3rd grade sister did not know how to spell the word “this.”
9) And then refused to do her chores, screaming loudly that she was not a “Cinderella slave.”
A variety of punishments were doled out for these various misdeeds. The most galling punishment, as far as Kallan was concerned? I told her that she would not be allowed to take any money to school the following week.
The girls were, at the time, attending a private school that did occasional fund-raising by selling treats to the kids during the lunch-hour. The upcoming week was supposed to be sunny and warm, which meant that there would be ice cream for sale. Ice cream Kallan would have no money to buy.
Kallan was appalled and outraged and furious, but her arguments fell on deaf ears. Maybe in the future, I pointed out, she would think more carefully about her behavior and make better choices. She glared at me.
Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday . . . every afternoon, Kallan came home with sad tales of being the only girl in the whole 1st grade who had not been able to have ice cream. Every day she pleaded with me to cut the punishment short, and every day I refused. We went over all of the choices she had made to earn this punishment, and we talked about what she would do differently next time.
Thursday was more of the same, complaining and whining followed by discussions and hopes for better choices in the future.
Once that was over for the day, Kallan unpacked her backpack and handed me a single sheet of paper.
“Here, there’s a note for you from the school.”
As I stared at the note, I could feel giggling rising in my throat. I hurried away and into my bedroom to examine the note carefully. Kallan went about her business as though completely unconcerned with the note or its contents.
Just another note from school, right?
In the unmistakable penmanship of my very own first grader, I read this . . .
Dear Mrs. Wehrmeister,
You need to send $8.00 to scool with your dawter Kallan right away. If Kallan does not bring 8 dollaws, she will not be able to go to tihs scool any morr. Do not call the scool. We do not have time to talk. Send the monney.
Are you kidding me? Oh my god. I was all teary and giggling and astounded.
Where did this girl come from?
I send Maj out to play and I sit down with Kallan.
I hold the note out, “Did you actually think I was going to believe this was from the school?”
Kallan slumps, “I couldn’t figure out how to get a piece of school paper so it would look official. They don’t just hand that stuff out, you know.”
“OK, but Kallan? Even if this letter was written on official letterhead, I would still know it was from you.”
She protests, “I used my neatest handwriting!”
How much do I love this devious little girl?!?
“So do you want to explain why you need $8.00?”
She is all mumbly, “I owe people.”
I am incredulous, but even as I am incredulous, I realize where this is going, “You owe people $8.00? How can that be?”
She stares at me challengingly, “You said I couldn’t bring money to school. You never said someone else couldn’t bring me money to spend at school.”
Kallan lists the people to whom she owes $1.50 (the cost of an ice cream cone) . . . Johnathon and Maria and Cecily and Brandy. One for each day of the week thus far.
“OK, but that’s only $6.00. Why does this note say you need $8.00?”
“Well, I want ice cream tomorrow, and I figured $8.00 sounded better than $7.50.”
This girl? She kills me.
“Well, I am not going to give you $8.00. Instead? I am going to call all of these children’s mothers and explain what has happened. And I will explain that you will be paying these debts back with your allowance.”
“But that will take me weeks! I don’t have $6.00!”
“You should have thought about that before you borrowed the money.”
“But that’s not fair! Everyone is going to be all mad at me!”
“They should be mad at you. You have not been a good friend. At all.”
“I could be a good friend, if you would just give me $8.00.”
“And? The no-money-to-school punishment? It’s been rescheduled for next week. But this time? I am having a little chat with your teacher about how you are not to have any treats at lunchtime.”
She walks away, all dejected and sad. But as she walks, I can hear the wheels of her mind turning. Trying to work out a plan.
She always has a plan.