Trouble

We are in trouble.

Elizabeth was naughty this afternoon and when disciplined and told to go to her room, she said to me, "NO.  I don't care about that!" in her mean voice with her angry eyes.  Which means she scowled for all she's worth and her words came out in these little staccato bursts, accompanied by arm movements to show me she was serious.

And whether she cared or not, I picked her up and carried her to her room.

Honestly, I'd rather she tell me she doesn't care about being naughty than scream at the top of her lungs when I discipline her.  And when she looks at me and tells me that "That's not vewy nice!" after I've reprimanded her, its all I can to not crack up.  No, baby doll, Mama is not very nice when she's telling you to not claw the skin off your brother's arms.  Nor is she nice when she tells you to stop hitting Andy's head with the drum sticks.  But you're not being especially nice yourself.

Oh, Lizzy Boo.  You are something else.