Sudden screams. Angry, frustrated, so distraught he can’t talk screams. Simon is standing next Samantha, who isn’t screaming. Her hands are clasped together in her lap, and I can almost see a yellow feather sticking out of the corner of that smile on her face.
“Samantha! What are you holding?”
With that maddening smile, eyes twinkling, she answers, “Nothing.”
Simon is about to have a stroke. His entire face is purple, and he is screaming spit, still unintelligible in his rage.
“SAMANTHA! Give him back his toy!”
She mimes dumping a toy in his grabbing hands. My blood pressure goes through the roof! I want to wipe that smile off her face in the most unchristian way. “SAMANTHA GRACE! YOU GIVE HIM BACK WHATEVER IT IS YOU TOOK!”
She looks up at me, startled, and mimes again dumping something into his hand.
Simon giggles. “Thank you, Samantha!” He’s clutching two fistfuls of nothing to his chest. “Now I have two Alicias!” His imaginary friend.
Oh Dear God. I just lost -my- temper, in a fight over an imaginary toy. Way to be the adult, mom!