Sharp As Tacks...

So tonight was any random Thursday…and then this…
I was working on a project for a little friend of Anne and Kate’s. Minding my own business.
The girls were occupied.
Adam was hanging out.
We were chatting.
Out of nowhere, Anne comes flying around the corner…very upset.
Here is how it panned out…

A-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
M-Sewing…
A-YOU KNOW WHAT? I’M TIRED OF THIS. YOU SEW 100 DRESSES FOR EVERYONE AND NEVER ONE FOR ME
M-That isn’t true
A-WHY CAN’T YOU MAKE ME ANYTHING??????
M-I make you things all the time
A-I’M SO TIRED OF ALL OF THE SEWING

All the while Anne looks extremely mean. She has this ability to screw with her eye brows. They look as if there is thread pulled through them and someone is yanking them up at very odd angles.
Her tongue was sharp…as if edged in tacks.
Terrible to endure.
Adam turned his back to us, he said he ‘felt sorry’ for me.
I think he was either a)afraid of her turning on him, or b) fighting tears himself.

My eyes for some reason produced LARGE HOT TEARS.
Totally unexpected.
Tears that you get when your mother is so mad she is speechless…you know that look that they give, half laid with guilt the other half anger…ew…just an ugly combo. She then softened her look and said…
YOU KNOW WHAT?
YOU MADE ME CRY TOO and sobbed into a huge puddle on my lap…Eventually she calmed down, and happily went ‘shopping’ in the book order her teacher sent home with her today…
I have made approximately FOUR DRESSES in about 5 months time.
REALLY? What the….
She had me up against a wall. Her look, her tone, everything screamed prepubescent. PLUS it had a side dish of my personality...which when pressed, can be feisty. I don’t put up with a lot junk. And if crossed one too many times, I will eventually CRACK. Apparently, she has inherited that trait of mine!
So if anyone was thinking that we sit around every night singing nursery rhymes and playing bored games…FORGET IT!
I’m hoping a good night’s sleep will cure all tacky-tongues!
Luckily, the wounds are only flesh deep, nothing a glass of wine can’t cure. Now I’m stewing of what is to come, say 10 years from now…
~Chat soon!