Notthatfunny.com

(That was what Amanda text-messaged me when I told her some of this story.)

Well, you know how Jason works on Tuesdays, and doesn't get home until about 5 p.m.?

And how Anna Marie normally rides the bus to First Baptist Church for their choir and handbell program?

Well, that program ended two weeks ago. So I've been having to bring her to my office after school.

Most of the time, she comes in, she does her homework, and she plays on the extra computer. This Tuesday, however, she decided to make trouble.

And lots of it.

When she got into the car after school, she said one of her friends had asked her to decorate a pencil for her. I don't ask questions, folks - it doesn't make any sense to me either, but I'm not seven.

Anyway - after she did her homework, she started on the pencil decorating part of her afternoon.

She had her watercolors with her, and used them to make some lovely, colorful designs on the wooden writing instrument. I'm working away, when she comes in, gets my scissors, and asks:

"Mom, how do you make confetti?"

Look people. I may have been born in the morning, but it wasn't that morning. I knew that she'd get to cutting, and soon there would be small scraps of paper all over the floor of my place of business. And guess who would be cleaning it up? Yep. Me.

Not going to happen.

So I told her that. And she was unhappy. And she went to another girl in our office and asked her how to make confetti.

After I'd told her no.

See where this is going yet?

When I got on to her about it, she ran through the glass door into the back part of the office where the kitchen is. A few minutes later, she comes back up to the door and hands me a note. I have left all spelling, diction, and punctuation intact.

Dear Mom, I have went to the back so I won't get in t-r-o-u-b-l-e fo cutting out confetti. I am not going to cut out cofetti. But I'm using my science skills to build a machine. So farewell. Goodbye. Love, Anna Marie.

P.S. (Bring me your pack of popcorn eggs.)

Editor's note: I had a pack of popcorn eggs on my desk, picked up at half price that morning at Walmart. Guess she wanted provisions while she was inventing.

She then called our GM, Shirley, into her "office." Shirley then returned with a paper reading "No moms allowed!" and taped it to the glass door, per Anna Marie's instructions.

(Wait! It gets better!)

When I went to the back anyway, she threw a small fit. Luckily, it was time to go home. In the car, I told her that although the others in the office may have been laughing, she had disobeyed and disrespected me, and there would be no TV for the rest of the evening.

She didn't like that last part. Not one little bit.

When we got home, she again ran into her room and closed her door. While I was in my room explaining to Jason what had transpired, here is the note she brought me:

Sorry that I acted bad at your job. But God already forgot about it. Love, Anna Marie!

(Insert pictures of the two of us, with rays of light emanating from our persons.)

I still (heart) you!

The part about God forgetting about it? Apparently she must have been listening when I told her that when we ask forgiveness, that's what He does - He forgets all about what we did.

What do I say to that? I'll tell you what I said.

"I love you too. You still aren't getting to watch TV."

Guess what - she did everything else I asked her to the rest of the evening. She made her bed. She put her plate in the sink. She did something else, too, but it escapes me just now.

So, I did end up letting her watch the last 30 minutes of the Food Network Cupcake Challenge with me. You know, so she can get ideas for the next time she bakes something with her Aunt Manda. And, it wasn't "her" TV, so technically it didn't count, right?

Right?

Y'all, after Tuesday, I know this much - if that which doesn't kill me makes me stronger, I'll reach superhero status before long.