9-19-06

My seven year old daughter has been suffering from PMS, pissing mommy (off) successfully, for a few years now. The more I smile the more she frowns. This morning it was hair trouble. First combing it sets her off, then the styling begins in which she replies “I look like a rocket ship!” I of course bite down and grin and say “Let me guess which orifice the fire will come from.” She doesn’t find me amusing, I try holding her hair straight in the air and saying “this is going to be a long day, me holding this up all day.” Again nothing. I finally finished, she seemed satisfied because she glared at me a said “done.” I then received the cursed eye and she stomped off. Ah, the joys of the early morning.