I'm Being Held Hostage By A Groupie.

My daughter is quite a character. She is the type that once she sets her mind to something there is no diverting her from accomplishing her mission. I had promised her that I would take her to the park on Saturday. My reasoning behind this was threefold. (I am never able to do anything without ulterior motives. It's a quirk. Sue me.) First, I was hoping she would play hard enough to make her pass out at a decent hour, instead of the unholy hours she has been keeping lately. (I swear no matter how tired she is, she refuses to let her head hit a pillow before the crack of midnight.) Second, I was planning on taking her to a park on the other side of town, so I could swing by the new location of an old friend, in the hopes of catching him stepping outside (and away from his current girlfriend) for a smoke break. (It worked by the way, but that encounter is another blog entry altogether.) Third, I was planning on visiting with a friend of mine that my daughter is quite fond of. Actually really fond of. I told said friend that it's almost like she is an 80's rock band and my daughter is her biggest fan and only groupie. She agreed to meet us at the park.

Actually, there was also a fourth reason that I just thought of. There is a place I like to eat that I rarely ever get the opportunity to go to. I went. It was yummy. Now back to your regularly scheduled blog entry.

So this friend and I talked and got caught up since we hadn't seen each other in a few months and she played with my daughter on the playground. We then went to eat, and my daughter was behaving better that she normally does, and I told my friend (her nickname is Moose) that she must be a natural Ritalin for my child because the behavior that I was experiencing from my child was delightful.

We decided to make a day and night of it by swinging by Moose's house to grab some old yearbooks and an overnight bag, and to let my daughter pet her kitty. From there we went to Target, then Walmart, and then Toys'R'Us before we found the red wagon that I was looking for. Since my child is 4 years old and 50 pounds of pure muscle, putting her in a stroller is getting a little absurd. Thus the reason for the wagon. But I digress.

After returning to my house, and spending a pleasant evening assembling the wagon (she did all the work, I just supervised) and perusing old yearbooks for a stroll down amnesia lane, we retired. Personally, I was beyond exhausted. That was the fullest day I have had in months.

The next morning I had to listen to my daughter bug me for an hour with, "I think Moose is awake. We need to wake up Moose. Where is Moose? I think she's asleep, let's wake Moose up now." It was only going to get worse from there.

Moose had to go home to take care of her kitty and do a few errands and chores, but promised my daughter that she would be back in a day to spend the night again and accompany my daughter on her Zoo field trip the next day. My daughter and I got in our car to head to the store, and Moose got in her white truck to head home. The truck has a little "Happy Bunny" antennae figurine on it. These are all details that you need to know to explain the email that I sent to Moose when I got home, as well as the reason for the title of this post. This is the body of the email...

Your groupie is driving me crazy. First it stared with the major crying jag in the car when she realized that we were in fact NOT going the same direction you were, followed by lots of snot and drooling when she realized that you were not every white truck on the road cause she couldn't find the bunny. It continued with the chanting of your name along with the insistence that YOU take her to the zoo in her new wagon. NOW! She then proceeded to try to rip my shirt off my body because I was not complying with said request to "GO THAT WAY TO MOOSE'S HOUSE, NO, THAT WAY MOMMY, YOU ARE GOING THE WRONG WAY, I NEED TO SEE THE MOOSE KITTY!!!!!"

She continued to bug me bat shit in the store cause they were out of sprinkle cookies, and she just knew that there are indeed sprinkle cookies at Moose's house and we needed to go there RIGHT NOW.

I have thrown a bottle of tequila at her an a CD of your greatest hits, but I don't think it is working. She is at this very moment mumbling under her breath and plotting to tie me up with dish towels and haul my ass away in her new red wagon...