Today we went to the playground with a bunch of Bink's little friends. It's the nicest day of the year and while Bink does not overly love the playground, I thought she would love to see her friends outside of preschool, run around a bit, and enjoy herself.

Well, she did not. She spent the entire time clinging to my leg, whining, eating goldfish and interrupting the other mothers. I reprimanded her about 599 times, and she shook her finger at me but kept her mouth shut.

Until the final time, when she hit me in the face.

It was not a real hit, it is the kind of hit that Bink (and probably other kids) do that is very light, so it doesn't actually hurt, and she can pretend it isn't a hit, but she still means it as a hit, so it counts.

So I picked her up and took her home immediately. Of course at this point she was having a full-on meltdown, but I brought her to the car anyway and we came home. She was screaming, crying, shaking her finger, the whole thing. I asked her why she thought we left, and she said that she didn't know, of course, but then we talked about what she did and she apologized and howled some more.

And then my anger dissipated, and I started to feel BADLY.

Like, so badly I have a heavy feeling in my chest. I made her cry. I took her away from her friends. And I know she cares not at all now, an hour later, but I feel like junk. And if someone told me this, I would tell that person that of course they should not feel badly, that kids have to learn and sometimes you have to do things that suck to get your point across.

But I still feel guilty.

What would you have done? What have you done in situations like this? I don't know if there is a middle ground, where we could have stayed and she would have understood the ramifications of what  she did. Is there? She's a really good girl so I don't want to make a mountain out of a molehill, but hitting is a mountain, isn't it?

Tell me what you would do and stop me from eating bagged shredded cheese while sobbing in the fetal position on the bathroom floor.


Things I Said Today

I have literally said all of these things in the last 24 hours.

We do not show our bums in Target.

We have been in Target 20 minutes. I am not making a third trip to the bathroom. We are going home.

I don't care what I said, you cannot call your doll LaFawnduh Throwup Fabulous.

You may call it a magina.

It's probably not poop, but wash your hands, just in case.

I know, it drives me nuts when bears break into our house at night and eat our hair, too. But we're not moving to the backyard.

I love you a million billion, too!

And most touching of all:

The small beer, please. I have to get back to preschool.