Butterfly Rage or Constructive Mess?

As always - The Cast of Characters

Me (The Daddy)
The Bean: Age 7
The Butterfly: Age 5
The Darling Wife
The Buffett Puppy

The picture probably says it all, but I'll give you the background anyway.

Act I


The Butterfly gets off the bus.  She's happy because school is out and The Buffett Puppy and I are waiting for her at the bus stop.


OK, maybe she's just happy to see The Buffett Puppy.


"It's ballet day!" I cheerfully announce.


And away we go...


"I don't want to go to ballet!  Ballet is stupid!"


"But it's Wednesday.  Wednesday is always ballet day."


"Not this Wednesday."


"Your cousin will be there.  Don't you want to see her at ballet?"


"No!  I want to eat Pop Tarts!"


As documented in Ballet Hair, I have a bit of a problem with ballet day as it is.  So I'm feeling both a sense of guilt and one of relief, when she says this.  OK, mostly relief.


I give her Pop Tarts and call the DW, who, for some reason, answers her phone.



"The Butterfly doesn't want to go to ballet.  She just wants to eat Pop Tarts." 



The Butterfly gets to talk on the phone.  Actually, she just screams into the phone and hangs up.


I assert my manly stature.  "OK, you don't have to go to ballet.  But no TV for you.  You can go to your room."


"I don't want to go to my room!  I want to go to ballet!  I want to see my cousin!"


It is important to note that ballet is about 20 minutes away, and it takes me about 20 minutes to get her dressed.  Ballet Hair not included.


Oh, the class has already started and we're still at home.


"It's too late," I say.  "Ballet will be over by the time we get there."


"You're an idiot!" she screams and slams her door.


Time passes.  The Butterfly calms down.  She emerges from her room.  She is sorry she pointed out the fact that I'm an idiot.


Act II


Apology accepted.  On with the TV.

It appears that The Buffet Puppy has eschewed all his toys and chewed up a roll of paper towels.  I, get this, look for the vacuum cleaner.


This is when I notice The Butterfly's room.  It looks like a bomb went off.  The DW is not going to be thrilled at my household management.


But instead, the DW helps her clean the mess and discovers that about half her clothes no longer fit.  She packs them into bags.  She is gearing up for consignment.


Butterfly Rage = Consignment Sale = Cash In Pocket.


Such a smart girl, that Butterfly is.