flying undies

It's 30 minutes before bedtime on my second night in a row of solo parenting. I'm giving Julianna a bath. Lily walks into the bathroom and says: What can I do?! I want to do something!"

As I wash Julianna's hair, I say, "You can read a book, brush your teeth, go to bed..."

Not satisfied, she whines, "No! I either want to run on the treadmill, go for a bike ride of lift weights."

"None of those options are available this close to bedtime. I'm sorry."

Lily picks up Julianna's dirty underwear and tosses it in my direction then screams, "You never let me do anything!"

The underwear bounces of the side of my head and lands in Julianna's bath water. I calmly stand up and tell Lily that she is out of choices, that was no a good idea, and escort her to her room. I tell her to stay in her room.

I return to the bathroom to finish the bath. Julianna looks up at me with a baffled look on her face, "Why did you put my underwear in the bathtub, Mom!"

"I'm sorry; I didn't do it! It was Lily."

Julianna bows her head, shakes it slowly, and says solemnly, "Poor choice....poor choice."