She be trolling hard
You know how, on the internet, you get that one person who is a deliberate asshole? They post stupid responses to posts, they post the dumbest things to incite anger and frustration, or to annoy the other people in the community/message board. They usually get dog piled by the naive and unsuspecting until…
“You guys, it’s a troll. Stop feeding the troll.”
Future Cult Leader is a real life troll.
“Hey, it’s time to empty the dishwasher.”
She works for a little bit and then…
“Mooooooooom” she stretches this out into a 5 syllable word “I don’t know where this gooooooooooeeeeeees.” Another 5 syllable word.
“Cult Leader, what is it?” Maybe she thinks it’s something else.
“A glass bowl.”
“Okay, where do the glass bowls go?” Trying to help her solve her own problem.
“I don’t knooooooooooooooooooow.”
“But you’ve put them away lots of times before.” Logic to jog her memory.
“I don’t remeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeember.”
I give her The Mom Look. No nonsense attitude, GO.
“I really don’t knoooooooooooooooooooow.”
“Look, knock it off. Put it away.” My frustration is increasing. I’m thinking, good grief, kid. This isn’t your first rodeo.
She walks over to the part of the kitchen where the glass bowls go. “Mommmmmmmmmmmmmmeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee I don’t know where it goes and if I don’t know where it goes and I can’t put it away and then I can’t empty the dishwasher and then I guess I’ll have to go outside to play without doing my choooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrruh.”
Holy hell. “Stop. Now. Go put it away. You’re not leaving this kitchen until you put it away.” I can feel my blood pressure rising.
“BUT I DON’T KNOW WHERE IT GOES.”
My chest gets all tight as my fuse ignites. I had been feeling productive and was excited about getting stuff done, and my 6 year old is cock blocking me.
“PUT IT AWAY NOW, OR I WILL PAY THE GYPSIES TO TAKE YOU.” Not a creative threat, as far as threats go, but it’s my go to and it usually gets the job done. I think she’s afraid I can actually do something like that.
“I *CAN’T* PUT IT AWAY BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW WHERE IT GOES!”
That’s when I notice the look on her face. Oh, she knows what she’s doing. I’m on to her.
“If you don’t put it away, I will ruin your day.”
She harrumps and puts the bowl away. Fucking troll.
“Hey. Lock the cabinet so Evil Genius can’t get in there.”
“I don’t feel like it.”
“DO. IT.” I’m trying so hard to be firm without sounding like I’m ready to HULK SMASH.
“She can open the lock anyway.”
“No, she can’t.”
“Yes, she can.”
“Stop arguing with me and lock the cabinet.”
“GET IT DONE.”
“BUT IT’S POINTLESS.”
Cue my head exploding.
I am in the bathroom, enjoying my morning poo. See, I like pooing. For the longest time I didn’t do it regularly. Then I got regular and there’s nothing quite like a great bowel movement. Plus, it affords me 5 child free minutes.
Future Cult Leader bursts in, because stupidly, I have not locked the door. I’d had a 2 month period where I locked the door to prevent getting interrupted and figured my days of getting walked in on were over. Inevitably, the first time I don’t lock the door is when a child decides their needs come before my morning poo. I caught the door and shut it before she could step in.
“NO. I’m using the bathroom.”
“But I have to go potty real bad!”
“Then go upstairs. I’m busy.”
“I don’t wanna go upstairs!”
“Child, there are 5 other toilets in this house. Go use one of them.”
“Cult Leader, you are not coming in here. Go somewhere else.”
No. She waited. I could almost see the internet troll face on her when I opened the door.
It’s time to get Cult Leader out of the shower. I knock on the shower door while speaking pleasantly to her.
“Time to get out!”
“Baby, time to get out, or I’m opening the door” which is something she hates, because all of a sudden she likes her privacy. Fine, I support that. But not when she’s not listening.
I pull open the door, and she stands there, staring at me. I’m having a stare down with a 41 pound child. I reach over to turn off the water, while continuing this futile staring contest, when she throws her hand out and pounds the knob. Lightening quick, this kid is.
“Great! Wring out your hair please.”
The stare continues.
“WRING out your HAIR.”
She slowly brings her hands to her hair and runs them over her head. About a gallon of water falls out of her thick, dirty blonde locks.
“Awesome! Step out so we can dry you off!” I am remaining cheerful because, dammit, showers shouldn’t be this hard.
She slowly picks her foot up, as though she’s in a vat of Jello, and gingerly steps on the carpet. She stands with one foot in, one foot out.
She steps out, I get her dried off, and she gets into her underwear. I help her into her dress and then prepare her tights for application.
“Hokeeeeee, love. Sit down, please.”
She starts pushing on the walls. Sitting does not happen.
“HEY. What did I ask you to do?”
“What are you doing?”
“Standing and trying to shove the walls down.”
“Why are you standing and trying to shove the walls down?”
“Because it’s the opposite of sit.”
“Opposite?” I’m baffled. She picked out her outfit; I stupidly assumed she would be excited about getting it on.
“Why would you do the opposite of what I tell you?”
“Because it’s fun to make you mad!”
SEE, YOU GUYS? SHE’S A TROLL.