My friend Annik is getting married today and for her reception she's having a pirate party—at least, I'm assuming she's having a pirate party since the invitation was in Pirate (the language) and we were encouraged to show our "inner sea-dog." Rachel has been so excited for this—she's been asking about it non-stop. This morning we scrounged around for piratey things and then made swords out of cardboard.
We decided that the swords would be much more realistic if we wrapped them in tinfoil. This turned out to be so much harder than we thought. I'm not sure why.
All in all the sword project alone took us a good forty-five minutes.
Rachel was happy with her sword for all of three minutes. And then in bent. And she went ballistic.
"I hate this sword! You did a bad job, Mom! This sword is the ugliest, stupidest sword I've ever seen! Why did you even make it out of cardboard! You should have used something stronger—like metal! I hate it so much! Now I can't even be a pirate and it's all your fault because my sword is bending! Swords don't bend! I hate this sword! Why couldn't you just make a good sword? This sword is so, so bad and I hate it!"
After a few minutes of this, Andrew sent her to her room and told her to sit by herself until she could apologize. She came out of her room after she had calmed down and gave me a hug.
"I'm sorry..." she said sincerely, "That your sword is a little bit bendy."
Apology...accepted. I guess?
I mean, it was sincere and all but I can't figure out what exactly it is that she was apologizing for—the fact that she threw a horrible fit after I had invested so much time helping her make a sword or the fact that my sword-making skills are apparently sub-par.
We decided that the swords would be much more realistic if we wrapped them in tinfoil. This turned out to be so much harder than we thought. I'm not sure why.
All in all the sword project alone took us a good forty-five minutes.
Rachel was happy with her sword for all of three minutes. And then in bent. And she went ballistic.
"I hate this sword! You did a bad job, Mom! This sword is the ugliest, stupidest sword I've ever seen! Why did you even make it out of cardboard! You should have used something stronger—like metal! I hate it so much! Now I can't even be a pirate and it's all your fault because my sword is bending! Swords don't bend! I hate this sword! Why couldn't you just make a good sword? This sword is so, so bad and I hate it!"
After a few minutes of this, Andrew sent her to her room and told her to sit by herself until she could apologize. She came out of her room after she had calmed down and gave me a hug.
"I'm sorry..." she said sincerely, "That your sword is a little bit bendy."
Apology...accepted. I guess?
I mean, it was sincere and all but I can't figure out what exactly it is that she was apologizing for—the fact that she threw a horrible fit after I had invested so much time helping her make a sword or the fact that my sword-making skills are apparently sub-par.
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