At least her priorities are straight

Tuesday afternoon (post-IVF) I picked up Ada from Ellen's house. She'd had a great time playing with Monkey Boy and tearing up their house with him. The moment I arrived, her mood shifted. Ada turned into a whiny, crabby monster child, scanning her environment for things to complain about. First it was that I was not sitting close enough to her while she ate her snack, then that the socks I wanted her to wear were not her socks, she wanted her socks! (You mean the socks I pulled out of your boots? I'm pretty sure those are yours.)

Tipping Ada into utter crazy mode was my refusal to let her ride in the stroller. I walked Ada to Ellen's that morning, but I picked her up in the car so that I could then get gas. Foolish, I know, but I thought it would be a good idea to fold up the stroller and stick it in the trunk. This sent Ada into howls of complaint. Tearful pleas followed, "I want to ride in the stroller! It's my stroller, I want to ride in it!" She even tried to negotiate a little, suggesting maybe she could ride in the stroller in the car. When I told her this was not possible, she wailed and moaned.

Reaching the end of my capacity to hear such insane complaints, I asked her, "Ada, are you frustrated?"

"Yeah," she replied tearfully.

"Are you upset because George Bush is president?"

"Yeah."

"Are you upset about global warming?"

"Yeah."

"Are you upset because the Bears aren't going to be Super Bowl champs this year?"

"No."

"So it's just about global warming?"

"Yeah."