Defeated

If you follow my blog, you should be aware that I have been preparing Little Foot for Santa taking her pappy and giving it to a "wittle" baby that needs it. If not, see previous post.

This has gone on for weeks. Initially, she was very much opposed to the idea. As time went on, she opened up to the idea. We were, and I stress were, at the point to were she was excited for a little baby to receive her pacifier.

Again, were.

Last night, I decided that waiting was just prolonging the inevitable. We, more like I, laid her down without her pappy.

The tantrum began.

She cried for her daddy.

She hit mommy.

She, well, um.....she got sick. Twice.

So nearly an hour later, I was beat down physically and emotionally. I decided to give her pappy. But at this point, she was so devastated at the situation that pappy did not help.

She wanted her daddy. Only her daddy. And with her eyes, she pretty much told me to keep my pappy-stealing hands off of her.

So, I am warning everyone. I do not want to hear one word. I mean not one whisper of a word.

Little will be two in January. She will turn two with her pappy.

When she goes to kindergarten, when she drives for the first time, when she graduates, when she marries, when she has her first child, pappy will be there.






Not one word.