Bunny had a friend of school over for a play date today. After lunch, the girls decided to play dress-up. They pulled some dresses from Bunny's treasure chest.
First, Bunny came to me because she was having trouble getting the Disney dress over the dress she was already wearing. I showed her how to tuck the tutu-style skirt into the dress, then pull the play dress up and on.
Then, Friend came to me with a similar problem. She asked to take her dress off before putting on the play dress. I suggested that she tuck hers in to the play dress the same way I had shown Bunny.
Full-out meltdown, followed by her stomping out of the room, laying down, and doing a yell-cry to ensure that all of Chicagoland could hear her plight. I said from the kitchen where she had approached me, "When you're ready to talk, stop crying and come see me."
In a few minutes, she did return. I thought of a moment, then explained that the play dress was not intended to be put on without any clothes underneath and suggested that she see Bunny to borrow a shirt that she could wear under the dress. So she went and returned with shirt in hand. Then I unbuttoned her dress and asked her to take it off. It became so challenging for her that she started yelling and crying and went to the floor, writhing in agony. I asked if that was the customary way she removed her dresses. She looked like a magician trying to escape from a straight jacket and, to my surprise, was ultimately successful. The borrowed shirt and, in turn, play dress went on far less dramatically.
In the next twenty minutes, she melted down a couple more times because Bunny referred to herself and her friend as, "Goo goo ga ga-s." This was a most displeasing insult, just short of insulting the dress she wore to school. Things settled down and they played nicely for another ten minutes when there was something else to fight about. This continued for the next two hours, the duration of the play date.
Bunny, as you know if you read regularly, is no angel. Hanging out with another child who falls apart regularly makes me feel a little more normal.
Bunny melts down so much that I can't keep writing about it for fear of finding when I look back on my entries that my entire parenthood was consumed with dealing with an irrational whiner. If I mix in the good things, I can write history any way I see fit.