Uh-Uh, no she di - int !

Last week, my co-worker with whom I frequently share preschooler war stories, stops me when she sees me and points to something on her face. "Look at this" she says pointing to a scratch extending the length of her cheek.

It couldn't be. I'm thinking.

"It was during a particularly bad tantrum," she said

Holy mother of God. Your child did that? Not in my house, I'm thinking. My children know better.

Or so I thought.

Last night at bed time, J. winds up beside herself because it's not her turn to listen to her Disney Princess CD.

She works herself in to an uncontrollable frenzy to the point where I just walk out of her room telling her I can not and will not talk to her when she's like this.

"But I want my Princess CD ," she says from down the hall in between tears and stomping her little foot.

Now part of me wants to laugh because truthfully its kind of funny that she is getting this worked up over a silly cd. The other part of me wants to call a priest because my child has certainly been taken over by demons. I mean what else could it be?

"You need to get back in bed," I say heading back towards her room.

Ever defiant she screams "I want my Princess CD" and just when I think I'm really about to loose it she spits.

Yep, you read it right. She turned her little head to the side and spit for effect.

I'm not a spitter, nor is hubby or her older sisters so I'm not sure where she picked up that pleasant little trait. Near as I can figure it she must have been so frustrated all she could think to do was to spit.

"Did you just spit" I ask (rather loudly).

J. is silent.

"Did you just spit ?" I ask

" That is unacceptable and I won't have it" I said as I yanked her special Ariel night light because that was all I could think to do short of beating the bejesus out of her at the time to show her I meant business .

"Little girls that spit do not get to have their special night lights" I say.

I leave demon-childs room while demon child is still screaming and head downstairs to tell hubby that "his" child has gone nuts. Because when she is this crazed she is his child.

A bit later, J. appears dowstairs looking a little worse for wear but much calmer.

I stare her down, getting ready for the next battle.

She looks at me and said simply "Sorry mommy".

And it was over. As quickly as it had started it was over.

I couldn't help but think of my co-worker and my initial reaction to her daughter scratching her and how I thought that type of thing would never happen in my house.

No,it hadn't gotten physical but this would certainly qualify as a "particularly bad tantrum".

Just before I went to bed that night , I checked in on the kids as I usually do.
J. was peacefully sleeping and looking angelic once again.

PTL, my little girl is back! I thought.

I crept out quietly so as not to wake her up and just in case those nasty demon sons a bitches wanted to do battle again . Thinking back on what had happened mere hours ago, I half contemplated going to a local church and getting a jug of holy water.