Day Three - The Head Of The Bull Don't Fall Far From The Tree Of Stubborn

You may remember this girl.

She's my daughter.

My lovely, athletic, sixteen-year-old daughter.

My lovely, athletic, stubborn-as-a-bull's-horn, sixteen-year-old daughter.

And I couldn't love her more.

Today, as I came in the house from stimulating, butt-numbing conversation with my friend HeyJules, I was met with my lovely, athletic, stubborn-as-a-bull's-horn daughter, The Boy, and Psuedo-Daughter. All of them were in the office area watching a DVD on my computer.

MY computer.

Not that I'm overly possessive of MY computer or anything.

Ahem.

But that's a story for a different post.

At any rate, the Three Musketeers were there, watching a movie, bundled up in quilts and looking all cozy. Now, bear in mind LASAABHSYO Daughter had been told she needed to do two, count 'em, two things. One was the dishes, since it's her week. The other was the final mowing of the expanse of weeds we laughingly call a yard.

I didn't expect much. All I wanted was for her to have the dishes done by the time I got home. After all, I made pancake batter for her this morning so that she could cook chocolate-chip pancakes on her own, as I didn't have time due to the Rushing About In Preparation and all. I felt the least she could do was clean up after herself.

Apparently I thought wrong.

Not only did I think wrong, but upon my return to the familial abode, I found that the aforementioned daughter was apparently starving and expected me to make her lunch.

RIGHT NOW.

ExCUSE me???

"Well, it's Saturday. You never fix my lunch during the week, so this is the least you can do. And I want chicken nuggets and fries, and you'll have to go to the store to get them because we're all out. So make it snappy, because I'm hungry."

EXCUSE ME???

At this point I informed my daughter and the rest of the crew of the abundance of food products available just a few short steps away in a room they might not be familiar with....THE KITCHEN. I also suggested they take advantage of said edibles if they were hungry.

Dear Daughter replied she didn't WANT any of that stuff. She wanted CHICKEN NUGGETS AND FRIES. (implied whine)

At this point I pulled the Ace from my pocket.

"Well, if you want chicken nuggets and fries, you are welcome to take my debit card, drive to the grocery store and pick them up, bring them back, and I will be glad to prepare them for you, just as soon as you get the kitchen cleaned up."

A brilliant move on my part, I must say. Here's why: (1) DD hates to use my debit card. She's always afraid someone will ask if she's really the person she purports to be by using the card, and it scares her to death. (2) She doesn't want to actually have to GET DRESSED at the tender hour of NOON on a Saturday just to go to the store, (C) She'd have to use HER OWN GAS, (3) It would take an Act of God (or grounding) to get the kitchen cleaned before dinnertime.

She kept whining and hounding, and I kept repeating the above. Ladies and Gentlemen, it was a veritable battle of the wills.

It almost brought a tear to my eye, because that bullheaded, stubborn girl comes by it so very naturally.

The fruit doesn't fall far from THAT tree.

Oh, and instead of going to the store? She took the other Musketeers with her and went to Applebee's for lunch in her own car with her own gas on her own dime.

Guess she showed ME, huh?