I’m sure I’ll laugh about this later, but it pretty much sucked this morning.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

I hear Boo’s alarm as I’m getting ready in my bathroom.

Five minutes later, I notice no sounds coming from her room, so I head in to do my usual cajoling and singing to get the girl in motion.

Open door.

Let the yelling commence. Apparently everything was wrong with the world this morning.

“Boo, it’s time to get up honey. You’re running behind. I need you to get up and get moving. I have to leave soon.”

“NO!!!! I don’t want to go to school!”

“Why?”

There was no real answer. I leave her to get herself dressed, figuring that if she doesn’t have an audience to perform her “fit” for, than she’ll wise up and seek attention in the form of praise instead of punishment.

Five minutes later, I check in on her. She’s sitting on her floor, clothes strewn everywhere. She’s now in full hissy fit mode.

“MOMMY! I CAN’T WEAR THESE PANTS!!!”

“Why Boo?”

“These pants are light blue and I need them to be DARK BLUE!!”

I look down and see that although the sweats in question are a bit faded from washing, they are indeed dark blue. Hmmm. Which way to go here?

“Boo, they ARE dark blue.”

“NO THEY’RE NOT!!!”

She pulls her sweatshirt next to to the pants and illustrates the few microshades of difference between the two.

“SEE?!?! (sob) THEY’RE NOT THE SAME!!!”

(sigh) I realize that I’m not going to win this argument. Let’s move on to Plan B. I pull out a newer pair of sweatpants.

“Okay, let’s try these. See? They’re the same color as your sweatshirt. Now, let’s get dressed. Mommy’s going to be late.”

She hold them up to her waist and whines, “THESE ARE TOO BIG!”

Oh sweet Jesus, take me now.

“Let’s see. Can you try them on and we’ll see?”

After about three more exchanges back and forth and Homer’s help with coaching her into her clothes, she gets the pants on, but is clearly NOT happy about it.

“SEE! THESE ARE TOO BIG! They need to go down here!” (She motions to her hips) Not up here! (She motions to her waist.”

“What are you talking about Boo? They go around your waist, we can roll them up if they’re too long.”

“NO WE CAN’T!! SEE?!?! NOW THEY’RE WRINKLED!!!”

That’s it. I’m done. I give up. I just can’t fight the city hall that is Boo’s logic on a grumpy Monday morning. She did eventually make it to school, thanks to Homer. Albeit she was late, ate breakfast in the car, and probably looked like a rumpled homeless catholic school mess because of the tears and unbrushed hair and teeth.

Someday I will tell myself that I am blessed by her strong will and focused determination, but for now, I just want her to get dressed.