Kiki was prowling around last night at 9:30. Since she has gotten crabbier and crabbier as the week has progressed, I told her, “Turn your light out. You need to sleep.”
“I’m not tired,” she replied.
I repeated that she should turn her light out, and then added, “And I can hear you yawning, so I know you are tired.”
And like we have experienced so many times, Bad Sense ripped open the door to her mouth, yanked Good Sense out of the way, and hopped into the driver’s seat. Bad Sense caused her to call me a liar.
“Okay,” I told her. “One more word, and it is going to get ugly. You need to be quiet and do what you were told.”
Bad Sense, obviously at the encouragement of some ornery hormones cheering him on, showed off and stomped on the accelerator, and Kiki’s mouth skidded out of control. One minute later, she was sobbing incoherently at the injustice of it all—it had gotten ugly. She earned a day on Blackout and has spent all of today in her room. (Reading back over this, I realize that I wish someone would sentence me to a full day in MY room. Maybe I need to rethink this.)
It has been a remarkably peaceful day without her complaining and bossing. I am seriously considering installing a dumbwaiter and getting her a microwave and some frozen dinners, and letting her stay up there until she can be human or turns 30, whichever comes first. Or last.
Let’s think about this…our wealthier forefathers (most likely at the encouragement of foremothers) used to send their children to boarding schools. Those who were not financially well off got their kids jobs or sold them into apprenticeships. Okay, this sounds like the most profitable and least stressful approach, but we’d have to have a clause that there would be no returns. Kiki would rather spend twice as much energy complaining as she would working. Plus, once she opened that smart mouth of hers, and it yet again got away from her, those people would be bringing her back for a refund.
However…what I might be able to arrange is for them to SELL her back to me at a small loss on their part. Then I could stock up on some frozen dinners until the next sucker came along. Caveat emptor.