counterattack

Been on a bit of a counteroffensive with the ladies of the house lately.

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With C it's been over her idea that all (of her) information exists in some kind of magical cloud, a cloud that I always have in sight and consult with regularly, like the weather or goat entrails. So she should be able to tell me something once and in a tortuously roundabout way and now I have that information and will act on it. Guess what? I don't and I won't.

But I already told you that, she'll say.

When was that? When I was in the middle of making supper? When I was in the middle of trying to watch that movie? When I was in the other room? When I was in the middle of defusing that nuclear bomb? Because -- and I hate to tell you this -- I wasn't really listening.

So if you want that massive favour that is totally 100% for you and is just one more thing on my life-constricting to-do list, then you'll have to (a) remind me and (b) give me specific instructions, not just re-send some rambling email or series of emails from six months ago that I didn't read the first time. Thank you!

* * * * *

With Oona it's been over her sudden demanding of everthing. I want juice! I want crackers! I want ponies (pony tails)! I want my babies (baby dolls)! I want George (Curious George stories)! and so on.

So now, as soon as she wakes up, I let her have it: I want juice! I want ponies! Did you hear me? I WANT PONIES!

This is very completely discombobulating for her, and she looks around and tries to think and then smiles and says, I want a hug.