One night not so long ago, I pulled open the pantry door. When a fully cooked, completely nutritious, and totally balanced meal didn't immediately leap out at me I decided it was time to order a pizza from Our Very Favorite Pizza Place Located Conveniently on Main Street. Unfortunately, the only Lemony who thought this was a good idea was, well, me.
"I had pizza for lunch at school!" whined Lemony Brother.
pizza!" harumphed Lemony Teen.
"YEAH! Pizza sucks!" piped in Lemony Child.
I suggested they
plan a fully cooked, completely nutritious and totally balanced meal. They are, after all, totally capable people. Or so they tell me.
Suddenly they insisted they weren't at all
capable, a fact I will remind them of the next time they think they should be able to drive themselves to the mall in my car to spend my money.
(totally unrelated little side note...why the hell
does that stupid bubble that pops up with a WeatherBug update need to be clicked on TEN TIMES before it goes away??? wait a minute...why is WeatherBug installed on my computer???)
Since the Lemonettes weren't interested in cooking anymore than I was, and pizza was out since it sucks and all, it was off to the local pub for a pint (for me) and a burger (for the Lemonettes). We sat, we ate, we chatted, we asked for the bill.
So far so good, right?
The youngest child is a bit of a spirited Lemon. She learned long ago that in our very busy...and very loud...family, a well-placed shriek is pretty much the only thing anybody will pay attention to.
Do you see where I'm going?
Lemony Child decided she absolutely must
have Lemony Brother's book. Why, we'll never know since the girl is 5 and can't read words more complicated than her own name, but she NEEDED it and she NEEDED it NOW.
Obviously Lemony Brother didn't think it was quite as dire a situation as his sister. He refused her demand. All of Hell's fury was unleashed and it spewed mightily from the mouth of a five-year-old Lemon. You know what they say about hell hath no fury, right?
They weren't even close, man.
I threw my debit card at the waiter and gave him my very best for the love of all that is right and holy, man, HURRY
look. He hurried, all right...right out of the pub and into his car where he screamed off into the night muttering under his breath the entire time about never, and he means EVER, having children.
The guy at the table next to us covered his ears.
The little girl at the table next to us stared in open-mouthed awe before turning to her mother and saying, "That girl is my hero!"
The mother of the little girl at the table next to us shot me a withering look as she hustled Precious the Perfect Who Would Never
Do Such Things away.
I thought maybe I should, you know, stuff the youngest Lemon's mouth full of ice or something when a woman from across the dining room stood up and wandered over, put her hand on my shouder, leaned over to the youngest Lemon and said, "You are a very loud little girl."
Lemony Child immediately stopped fussing. She stood up. She put her hand on the woman's hand, which was still on my shoulder. She smiled. And then she said, "Sometimes my brother is mean to me because I'm littler than he is. He can smoosh me like a bug. Loud is all I have. Now hands off the mumma."
The lady turned to me and said, "Wow. She's a firecracker, ain't she?"