On the weekend my daughter, the Demon Child headed off to camp. She’s going to be a leader in training so that next summer she can be a camp counselor. Wonder if should I warn the poor delusional parents?
Always a challenge getting her ready, because of course, much of the shopping, packing, organizing occurs at the last minute. Which is why she wanted a manicure and pedicure the night before. But,it was Saturday night so of course all the nailshops were closed. More to the point, it would be pretty dumb to pay $50 for a manicure and pedicure before camp, when you know it’s going to get wrecked within hours of arriving, but hey, logic has never been the Demon Child’s strength. Nope, that would be DRAMA.
“Mom, don’t you dare touch a thing in my suitcase like you ALWAYS do! Promise me! Don’t add anything or take anything out because I’ve got everything just so and if you change it, you’ll screw EVERYTHING up just like you did when I went on the school camping trip and when I…”
“Okay, okay” Yeah, if would be terrible if I actually helped you and made sure you packed everything you’re supposed to take like a raincoat or rainboots. And I would prefer to send the stuff with you now rather than mail it to you later for some ridiculously exorbitant fee, like I ALWAYS do.
I’ve learned the hard way that when the Demon Child gets into one of her moods, there’s no talking to her. Any attempts I make to reason with her escalate into a yelling match. So, I bite my tongue and smile sweetly at the Demon Child, and then chew out her father, my husband, the Original Obnoxious One. She’s inherited his stubbornness, his block-headedness, his inflexibility, his… Did I mention they’re both Taurus, the sign of the bull?