Even if we should pity her because it’s snowing, Auntie Kim still gets the blame for this one.

Oh yes she does. And when she reads why, she will laugh and agree with me, that’s what. See, when Auntie Kim was here last time – you remember the Snowtorious I.C.E event, no? – she and Gracie (and Bee, too) spent a lot of time talking about scientific exploration. They talked about experiments and discovery and I would frequently hear Auntie Kim ask, “What’s your proof?”

I think I was as delighted as Gracie was. I loved that Gracie was being stimulated in an entirely different way. Gracie loved that she was being asked to stand on her own two feet and that her word could be gospel if she could only find strong enough reasons why. For my little negotiator with a penchant for science and math, it was pretty much heaven.

And then last night I broke up with all those happy memories because guess what happened? They turned against me. I realized it right around the time when I was waiting for the girls to finish dinner, while I emptied Gracie’s backpack at the kitchen island. Amid the piles of papers I pulled out, I saw that Gracie had moved up a level in Rocket Math. “Gracie! Level J! That’s awesome!,” I exclaimed. The kid can’t wait until she gets through the entire alphabet, so I know she loves showing off when she jumps ahead.

I moved her worksheet onto the fridge and continued sifting through the small mountain of homework and archeological finds. “Mom, you’re not proud of me,” I heard from the table. Wha-huh?

“Why would you say that?” I asked, a bit in disbelief. “I just congratulated you!”

“But you’re going through homework again,” she countered. And then the little stinker followed up with the reason we’re going to blame Auntie Kim: “What’s your proof, Mom? Your behavior hasn’t changed.”

I’m pretty sure my jaw unhinged a wee little bit. My proof? A WEEK AFTER I SPENT AN ENTIRE NIGHT AND HALF OF HER FUTURE THERAPY FUND AT THE HOSPITAL AND DIDN’T EVEN SCOLD HER? Instead I went for light laughter and told her, “I told you that you did a great job and I put your paper up on the fridge. I don’t usually put homework up there. That’s my proof.” I might even have been a little smug that I came up with some good evidence. My behavior hasn’t changed, indeed. Can someone please remind this kid she’s seven?

Gracie kind of smiled, realized she had been beaten and went back to her dinner, happy that I had played (what was apparently) her fun little exercise. I might have started mumbling and grumbling about scientific discovery and giving mamas gray hairs while I finished sorting papers.

And I almost made it through the rest of dinner unscathed, but then I had to yell at the girls to stop picking on each other and Bee burst into tears. “You’re not pwoud of meeeeeeee!” Oh for heaven’s sake. I told her I was proud of her all the time and that I was proud that she didn’t have any hives right at that moment (quick! stop crying kid before they come back!) and that she had remembered to cover her cough with her hand.

But for pete’s sake, guys. If this doesn’t quit soon, I’m going to make them type of reports – double-spaced, Courier font – and submit them for review before leveling such sweeping charges of insufficient proof. And make Auntie Kim in charge of reviewing said material! Ha!

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