reason 123351230435821 that I am Doomed.

Proof positive that 1 – she’s fine, and 2 – I’m doomed.

Exhibit 1, yesterday evening:

Me: So – how was your day? The boys give you any grief?

Pup: Was good, and not really, well kinda – see they were all up in our space and stealing the ice chunks we were collecting on the playground.

Me: ‘all up in your…’ wait, what? …ice chunks? You were collecting ice chunks?

Pup: of course. it’s what we do. Duh. So anyway, I did my lil thing so the teacher gets them in trouble without me being a tattle tale…

Me: …you have a ‘lil thing’?

Pup: well YEAH. Duh. You see, you stand up and then make your face go all sad like this, and then you just walk slooooooooowly past a teacher. And then their all like ‘What’s wrong?!’ and you just tell them an say ‘but I don’t wanna be a tattle tale’ and BOOM! Teacher takes care of it and no one thinks you tattled at all because you didn’t really because you just answered the teachers question and that’s the way it works.

Me:….expert manipulator at 9. Doomed.

Exhibit B, 7:30 am this morning:

Me: So you’re going to aunties after school right?

Pup: Yup! Pizza/Movie night! Auntie said!

Me: Here’s your bus pass. And call me when you get to Auntie’s so I know you made it ok.

Pup: Why, because the roads are icy still?

Me: No, because I like knowing where you are every moment of the day.

Pup: Oh. in that case. I’m standing by the door. Now Papa honked, so I’m opening the door. Now I’m RUNNING AWAY FROM YOU! And Mom? NOW I’M GETTING IN PAPA’S CAR, OK? And now we’re driving away… and now… (fades)

Doooooooomed.
Absolutely doooooomed.