Onion Fingers

Onion Fingers

Tonight I did something mean.
Something terrible.
Something Hilarious.

Now warning, if you are gonna get all pissy and mad and go ballistic on me and then email me evil horrid emails, DON'T READ THIS.

I warned you... remember that, K?

My daughter doesn't get the nickname "the six year old with an attitude", because she doesn't have one. She has one, alright. A real big one. And lately it seems that it has only gotten bigger and bigger.

I was chopping onions in the kitchen, and she kept getting smart, kept bugging her brother, and kept stomping around like a damned yeti.
Me, in a fit of absolute "that's it I have had it", stormed towards her. She ran. I caught her. And I looked at her, and then looked at my fingers and began laughing. "What's the matter?" I said as she looked at me frightened but giggling. "You have ONION HANNNNNNNNNNNDS! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEW!" She screamed out.

I remembered then, about the controversy about Blair from Facts of Life's book about "hot saucing" her kids when they would get smart mouthed. And I turned evil. I stuck my onion fingers in her nose.

Her mouth dropped open. And she stared at me in silence. I stared back.

Then....
She screamed. I pulled them out right away, and I saw in my hands, the power of the onion.

Sure, it was probably traumatizing. Sure, her nostrils probably stunk to high fuckin' heaven. Sure, I could have been a better mother by simply just putting her in her room or timing her out. But that shit doesn't work with her or me anymore. And if I simply got her to go to bed, and listen to me, by putting onion fingers in her nose, then so fuckin' be it.

Nobody said I was mother of the year.