Well Then. Here We Go Again.

Please forgive the outburst of late. Hands and heart are hurting less today. Possibly because of the following...

Tonight I received a call from my now five-year-old granddaughter. She wanted, she said, to come and live with me and Grandpa. It seems she was mad at her mother because her mother made her pick up her towel after her bath.

Cruel, cruel woman.

My daughter-in-law (which she will remain, divorce or no) asked me to explain the rules of my house to Cutie so she'd know what she was getting into. By the time I got through, Cutie was asking to call Uncle B to ask if she could move in with him instead.

I'm too old and cranky to try to raise another child, much as I love her. So these were a few of the rules I gave her:

1. No toys can live here. They can come for a visit, but they can't live here with you.

2. The only clothes you can wear are black pants and gray t-shirts. You can wear sweaters only if they are scratchy.

3. You have to pick up everyone's towels and clean out the toilet and scrub the bathtub.

4. I will not come and get you in the car because I have to go to work. You have to ride your bike here.

5. No one will have time to read you bedtime stories. We all have to go to bed early because we have to go to work and school. If you were just visiting we'd be happy to read you bedtime stories.

6. You can't watch cartoons or your favorite shows on television because Grandpa will be watching the news or plumbing or building shows all the time. If you were just visiting he would let you watch your shows, but if you're going to live here you can't.

The last rule was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Poor Cutie.