From my packing down the hall, I heard a rare altercation between Petunia and Dash tonight.
"GET OUT OF MY ROOM!" Petunia yelled.
"NO!" a very angry Dash fought back. "I WANT TO BUILD A PILLOW FORT UNDER YOUR DESK!" (This is a frequent activity for them.)
"Dash, I said GET OUT! I can't build a pillow fort now! I have to clean up!" Petunia almost cried.
I appeared in the doorway with raised eyebrows.
"Mom, Dash won't get out of my room!" Petunia whined.
"Mama, Petunia won't build a pillow fort with me!" Dash whined too.
"Why can't you build a pillow fort together?" I asked. Seeing Petunia's complaint coming, I added, "You know, it is easier for me to pack for Florida if you are playing nicely together." Seeing the whining about to recommence anyway, I made it clearer. "If I can't pack for Florida, well, then we can't go to Florida. You feelin' me?"
Petunia looked at me with a mix of "duh" and fiery anger at the same time. It was weird. It was freaky. It was so... so... pre-teen. God, I am not ready for that.
"Mom," she explained. "Look at my room."
I looked. I saw... Petunia's room.
"And?" I asked.
"It's a mess," she sighed as she rolled her eyes. (GAH!) "And you and daddy go all batty on me when my room is a mess. And I just can't have that. So you need to get him out of here so that I can clean up. Okay?"
49% of me wanted to absolutely wallop my child, for the first time ever, for the attitude she was flipping me. But the other 51% understood that she was right; daddy would go all batty if her room were such a mess. (Would I? Maybe. But not the night before a trip... but she doesn't need to know that.)
So I silently picked up Dash and exited the room. Dash complained. Dash threatened to "bust everything" if he couldn't build a pillow fort in Petunia's room. Dash settled for brushing his teeth for half an hour.
Oh, man, tomorrow is going to be one looonnnnggg travel day!
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