Declaration of Independence

You know it's not going to be a good day when your seven-year-old declares her independence.  Little sis was dressed and ready this morning before she was, so I sent her downstairs and told her she could pick a TV show.  Normally, that's not a problem because she'll pick something they both like, but today, she chose Little Bear. 

The older one took it as a personal offense: "I'm too big to watch Nick Jr!  I don't like Little Bear!  Can't it be my turn?" (howling all the while). 

Me: "No, honey, it can't be your turn.  There's no time.  You can have your turn tomorrow."

Her: "But I don't want to watch Little Bear!"

Me: "So I guess you'll have to eat breakfast in the dining room and take your turn tomorrow."

Her: (after more howling) "Well then FINE!  I declare my independence!"

I'm not sure what exactly that independence entailed, and I'm not sure she did either.  It must have made her feel good to say it, though, because she finally stopped screeching and ate her breakfast.

Meanwhile, we realized that Little Sis seemed to have lost her favorite Spongebob winter cap.  Picture it: bright yellow Spongebob face in all his glory, topped with a matching bright yellow pom-pom and tied with bright yellow braids (which, to her, are her hair, of course).  The hat was not in the box we use to house winter gear -- not sure why I even bothered to look there because I'm the only one who ever puts things away in it.  It was not in her book bag, either. 

I asked if maybe she had lost it at school but she said she hadn't worn it yesterday.  Her independent sister claimed she had and WWIII broke out about that. 

So, to calm things, I suggested that she look for Spongebob in the lost and found box at school and that I'd continue the search at home.  Apparently the thought of this was just too much -- she broke down sobbing and absolutely refused to get on the bus!  All the other kids had taken their seats by this point, and there's my five-year-old, holding onto me like a spider monkey and crying her eyes out about Spongebob.

I carried her aboard, plopped her in her seat and kissed her on her head before leaving.

The hat?  In the back seat of my car.  Naturally.

I'm contemplating my own declaration of independence but I'm not certain anyone would notice.