Getting our green on

There wasn't much celebrating of our Irish heritage today, except for my decision to put our new cookie cutters to use. For my birthday, my sister got me a handful of new designs that I was eager to dust off and use. The shamrocks were a clear choice for this spring holiday and I had the dough prepped and ready to work by the time Elisa arrived home from school. And it all started off pretty well. She washed up, donned an apron and got to work rolling out the dough. The cut outs were a little tricky to get on the sheet, but I helped.  And after a few minutes, she declared she was done and took off to await the first of the green treats. I made enough that I thought it would be fun to take some to our neighbors as well. But of course, no good deed goes unpunished. 

After dinner and homework, I told her to get ready to deliver them. We started to make little cards, but Elisa got tired of writing on them and started getting upset over nothing. I should have seen then that this was headed downhill. But no. The next thing I know, Nacho is asking her something, the screaming starts and then I hear her take the bags of cookies we've made and start whacking them on the dining room table. Seriously? The perfect cookies (not the almost burnt ones I took a photo of above) were broken and no longer goodies to be given away.  I lost it. So pathetic to get so mad about cookies, but I was pissed. And she had no explanation. Something about Nacho asking her to give the bags to him made her short circuit. So for the next 15 minutes, she wailed in her room after a good tongue thrashing from me. I'd say it made me feel better, but honestly, nothing with this kid sinks in easily. So no, I didn't feel better. 

I just don't know what's up with her lately. We had a great, almost drama-free weekend and then today it was drama-all-the-time. I know she had a field trip and might have been more tired than normal, but it's still not a free pass. I barely got an apology from her, but I decided she should redeem herself and deliver the cookies anyway. So that's the whole gory tale of how this little bit of celebratory goodness came to a screeching halt with one tempestuous move on Elisa's part. Is that the fiery Irish side of her? Who knows? But I made her eat the broken crumbs when she begged for a cookie. Hopefully, that will teach her. Somehow, I doubt it.