shook his head. "Baby girl, this is absolutely the worst behavior I have yet seen from you. I didn't think I'd ever find something to surpass your girls' night out misadventure in Vegas last spring, but this comes close. How fortunate for you that I'm in a much better position right now to paddle your bottom black and blue."
Thoroughly invaded, all the fight went suddenly right out of her, and Meg dropped limply over his lap. She began to cry.
Wanting to make good and sure that her temperature was accurately taken, he continued to hold her still and kept the thermometer deep inside her bottom, occasionally tipping his wrist to check the time on his watch, waiting several minutes longer than necessary before he pulled it out.
He studied the results for a long, long time, then heaved a heavy sigh. "Nope. No fever; so you're not sick. This is all just obstinance and temper tantrum."
Setting the thermometer on the back of the toilet, he let her go. He half-expected for her to jump up and continue her fit in full force. But Meg only rolled over to sit on his lap, her face red and wet from tears. She wrapped her arms around him, laying her head against his shoulder and sniffled sadly.
"Talk to me, baby," he coaxed as he held her. "Tell me what's going on in this pretty little head to make you act like this?"
"It's just bein' a very bad day," she sobbed.
"How can I help make it better?" When Meg only shrugged and shook her head, Daddy sighed again. "How about you eat your 'nana and your toast, you drink all your milk, and you have five bites of oatmeal. It's a long time until lunch. If you don't eat all your breakfast, you won't get a snack to help tide you over. But, if you take five bites, we'll call it good, all right?"
"Okay," she agreed, biting her bottom lip to stop its quivering. "Five bites."
He kissed her forehead, but inside her the 'badness' grew bigger. Instead of getting better, she felt like she'd just gotten away with something awful, and the mad feeling got a little bit worse.
After breakfast, hoping to cheer her up, Daddy dressed her in one of the fancier dresses. Baby doll white with a pretty pink bow in the back, it barely came down far enough to cover her diapered bottom. She wasn't sure she liked the Mary Jane shoes he buckled onto her feet, as she would much rather have run around barefoot, but the socks had lacy ruffles on them and a tiny pink bow apiece, and she liked them almost enough to want to tolerate the shoes. So she waited until he wasn't looking before kicking them off and hiding them behind the entertainment center. It wasn't that she wanted him to notice, but when he didn't, the mad feeling intensified even more.
Daddy brought down some paper and crayons, and for a brief time, he left her coloring on the kitchen table while he went to his study to gather together a calculator and what paperwork he needed to pay some bills. By the time he was ready to sit down opposite from her, one glance at her artwork pretty much told him that her mood wasn't on the verge of improvement. The page in front of her was absolutely blank, but there were three tightly wadded up doodles not far away.
After a moment of unenthusiastic study, Meg crumpled up the blank page as well. One sweep of her arm sent all four balls flying off the table, scattering them in all directions across the kitchen floor. One even bounced as far as the door and tumbled over the threshold into the living room.
"Now you can pick them right back up again," Daddy said calmly, without even looking up from his checkbook.
Dutifully, Meg got up from her chair and picked up the three balls in the kitchen. The fourth proved a little more difficult, but she eventually found it hiding under the edge of the sofa. She bent over to pick it up. As she turned to head back to the kitchen, not paying attention to where she was going, she misjudged the distance between herself and the coffee table and cracked her shin on the hard wooden
Thoroughly invaded, all the fight went suddenly right out of her, and Meg dropped limply over his lap. She began to cry.
Wanting to make good and sure that her temperature was accurately taken, he continued to hold her still and kept the thermometer deep inside her bottom, occasionally tipping his wrist to check the time on his watch, waiting several minutes longer than necessary before he pulled it out.
He studied the results for a long, long time, then heaved a heavy sigh. "Nope. No fever; so you're not sick. This is all just obstinance and temper tantrum."
Setting the thermometer on the back of the toilet, he let her go. He half-expected for her to jump up and continue her fit in full force. But Meg only rolled over to sit on his lap, her face red and wet from tears. She wrapped her arms around him, laying her head against his shoulder and sniffled sadly.
"Talk to me, baby," he coaxed as he held her. "Tell me what's going on in this pretty little head to make you act like this?"
"It's just bein' a very bad day," she sobbed.
"How can I help make it better?" When Meg only shrugged and shook her head, Daddy sighed again. "How about you eat your 'nana and your toast, you drink all your milk, and you have five bites of oatmeal. It's a long time until lunch. If you don't eat all your breakfast, you won't get a snack to help tide you over. But, if you take five bites, we'll call it good, all right?"
"Okay," she agreed, biting her bottom lip to stop its quivering. "Five bites."
He kissed her forehead, but inside her the 'badness' grew bigger. Instead of getting better, she felt like she'd just gotten away with something awful, and the mad feeling got a little bit worse.
After breakfast, hoping to cheer her up, Daddy dressed her in one of the fancier dresses. Baby doll white with a pretty pink bow in the back, it barely came down far enough to cover her diapered bottom. She wasn't sure she liked the Mary Jane shoes he buckled onto her feet, as she would much rather have run around barefoot, but the socks had lacy ruffles on them and a tiny pink bow apiece, and she liked them almost enough to want to tolerate the shoes. So she waited until he wasn't looking before kicking them off and hiding them behind the entertainment center. It wasn't that she wanted him to notice, but when he didn't, the mad feeling intensified even more.
Daddy brought down some paper and crayons, and for a brief time, he left her coloring on the kitchen table while he went to his study to gather together a calculator and what paperwork he needed to pay some bills. By the time he was ready to sit down opposite from her, one glance at her artwork pretty much told him that her mood wasn't on the verge of improvement. The page in front of her was absolutely blank, but there were three tightly wadded up doodles not far away.
After a moment of unenthusiastic study, Meg crumpled up the blank page as well. One sweep of her arm sent all four balls flying off the table, scattering them in all directions across the kitchen floor. One even bounced as far as the door and tumbled over the threshold into the living room.
"Now you can pick them right back up again," Daddy said calmly, without even looking up from his checkbook.
Dutifully, Meg got up from her chair and picked up the three balls in the kitchen. The fourth proved a little more difficult, but she eventually found it hiding under the edge of the sofa. She bent over to pick it up. As she turned to head back to the kitchen, not paying attention to where she was going, she misjudged the distance between herself and the coffee table and cracked her shin on the hard wooden
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