Yesterday started like any other morning.

I sprung out of bed, hopped in the shower, sang “So lose your mind you psycho….I think I like it too….”made two bowls of oatmeal, turned on the news, googled “skinless, boneless, chicken breast recipes” and then I waited.

I waited for the kids to wake up and then at 7am I gently called to them, then nuzzled in next to them, then stroked their arms and told them this is the last week of school, pulling gently on their arm hair to speed up this process, then I pinched an elbow, then I got the bull horn and shouted, “GET OUT OF BED RIGHT NOW!” before skipping back down the hall to start making school lunches….with a smile on my face.

Except unlike most days, only two of my kids surfaced. A very tired Chloe had rolled her pink fuzzy around her body like the casing on a sausage and refused to get out of bed.

When I say refused, I mean she wasn’t getting out of that bed without some external force a lot stronger than I.

My bag of tricks was empty before even offering her any breakfast.

We were running out of time before the bus (my mini-van) had to leave in order to make it to school on time.

I asked her what she would like for breakfast.

“For breakdist, I want nothing”

I asked her if she would like Cheerios or toast, offering two “yes” questions rather than a yes and a no.

“I would like nothing.”

For a foolproof plan, I did not see that coming.

I asked her what she would like to wear.

“Nothing.”

I asked her if she would like to wear pajamas or shorts and a t-shirt.

“Pajamas.”

And so on and so forth.

We finally wrestled her into her car seat and made it to school. Brushing teeth was more an exercise in eye rolling than anything resembling personal hygiene.

Historically, after arriving at school, it has been our routine to put the van in park, turn it off and then proceed to the playground to line up with her class.

She found yet another loophole.

First she played dead in her car seat.

Fooled me once.

Then she insisted there was no way she could possibly get out of her seat belt, carry her heavier than necessary school bag, never mind asking about the contents of her lunch and if I remembered a treat. (No treats for the wicked)

I finally suggested I carry her like a baby for all the world to see, even her best friends and teachers would see her Mommy delivering her like a newborn being dropped off by a stork, swaddled in Cheerios, toast and pajamas.

“Yep.”

So off we went, babe in arms to find her group.

She wasn’t bluffing and neither was I.

We arrived at her line-up, I set her down, bent down to shake hands and bid my worthy opponent good-day. But then she pulled out another zinger.

“Mommy, I love you. Don’t leave me.” And she started to cry.

Is anyone else buying this? She’s an evil genius. She was winking at me through the tears and sneaking sideways smiles in my direction while everyone looked on in horror at the meanest mother in the world who clearly dragged her too-weak-to-walk child to school and now she’s abandoning her.

Then after a long, exhausting day at school we played, we read books, we swam, we attended the annual Family Fun night and Chloe climbed into her bed, sausage casing at the ready.

I could hear a series of slamming sounds.

Ellie called out, “Mommy, Chloe’s throwing her books!”

I called back, “Chloe, please stop throwing books.”

“No.”