The gift that keeps on giving

For Christmas, Kate’s Grandpa got her the Polly Pocket Pool Party. I could tell by her gleeful exclamations that she was slightly too giddy about this particular gift. Accordingly, she demanded that it be opened and assembled NOW.RIGHT.NOW.NOW.NOW. Craig obliged, lest we suffer the embarrassing consequences of making her hold on for a millisecond.

Once that pool was together and ready for the par-tay, Kate looked up at me with her innocent little eyes and said, “Where’s the water mommy?” Um, the what? So, I look at the box and see Polly frolicking and splashing around in the water in the pool. Now, keep in mind, we were not at our own house when this transpired. I carefully laid a giant towel out on the floor and poured about a cup of water in the bottom of the pool. I read Kate the riot act with all sorts of rules and the consequences that would be forthcoming if she disobeyed them.

She played heartily for a moment, then looked up and told me that the pool needed more water. Of course, I had only added about one cup of water when you could easily get away with three to four cups. Since I’m in contention for the Anti-Fun Mommy Natzi Award of the Year, I told Kate that was all the water that we could put in the pool. Nonchalantly, she reached over and studied the back of the box. Then she turned to me and said, “The INSTRUCTIONS say to add one more scoop of water.”

You guys think I’m kidding when I tell you I have my work cut out for me. I’m so not.

After many rule infractions, Kate lost all privileges when she dumped the entire contraption over in an effort to get the Pollys’ out of the pool. You’d have thought someone peed in the pool based on the sudden need to evacuate everyone with such vigor. The Polly Pocket Pool Party has now been relegated to the bathroom, for use in the tub only until further reconsideration.

I was pretty on top of my game with this whole ordeal. I set rules, issued consequences, and followed through on the consequences (which is the area I seem to be the most deficient in).

Last night we were getting ready for diner and Kate comes up to me as she is attempting to undress. “Mom, I’m a little stinky. I need to get in the bathtub right now.” The whole stinky part caught me off guard, so I was slightly delayed in catching on to her newest scheme. It has now become all about taking a bath, which leads to being able to play with the Pool Party. Sigh. Just when I thought I had won. Instead, I have a kid who keeps running around telling the world she’s stinky and needs a bath.