One of the games Rachel and I sometimes play is trying to discipline her stuffed animals. (Rachel is such an unusually well-behaved child, sometimes I wonder if she gets out her latent aggression/desire to be naughty by pretending her animals are). The most mischievous one is Nemo, her little stuffed lion. Somehow we've both decided that he's the one who, in the morning, pounds on Rachel's face to wake her up. Usually I'll come in and sing, "Ray....chel. Ray....chel. Ray ay ay ay ayyy....chel" while I open the curtains. Then I'll walk over to her bed, grab Nemo and have him jump on her and say "Mommymommymommymommy play with me! I want some Cheerios! And donuts! And I want to come to school with you!!!"
"NEMO," I say sternly. "Mommy still has to wake up. You need to be gentle with her."
(Rachel is smiling sleepily the whole time. Then she'll say, "and he keeps doing it and he won't stop and you need to have a talk with him.").
So he'll keep acting up, and I'll keep scolding him, and eventually he'll go into an endless timeout while Rachel eats breakfast, I put on makeup and blow-dry my hair, she washes and brushes and gets her clothes on and we head to school and work.
The other day he was acting up particularly badly, and it was absolutely hilarious to her Rachel say at the top of her little voice:
"NEMO!" That is NOT acceptable in this house!"
I nearly died laughing. I already feel sorry for her kids, and figure I'll have to be a very indulgent grandma to provide some relief from her strictness.
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