Happiness Is...

After reports of sassiness in our beloved daughter from two different non-parental caregivers this week, I came down hard on her.  (You've got to know it's bad if her own grandmother is commenting on it, right?)  When she refused to apologize for talking smart to Miss A. while I was doing yoga at church, I sent her to bed at 7 o'clock and decided to pack away the thousand or so stuffed animals that she plays with daily to be earned back with good behavior.

Thinking this was the harshest thing I could do, I was surprised when she said "I'm going to help you" and joined in the sweep, herding critters from around her room and plunking them in the giant suitcase I was filling.

When that was beyond capacity, she said, "What are we going to do now?"

"We're going to put them in this basket," I told her.

"OK," she said cheerily.

I was puzzled. "You seem almost happy about this," I said.

"I sort of am," she replied.

"Why is that?" I asked.

"I'm not actually sure," she said, smiling.

She was asleep six minutes later, so I have a hunch it was fatigue-induced insanity.