Scratch Paper

Geek Girl is very environmentally conscious.  She's constantly telling us that we've left a light on in a room.  She is also very efficient in her use of scratch paper:

Eleven years and counting...

Geek Girl turns 11 today.  It has been a busy weekend of activities, only some of which are specifically birthday-related, but a good time except for late both evenings, when various meltdowns occurred.

The most recent meltdown was triggered because Geek Girl -- deeply engrossed in one of Terry Pratchett's books -- ignored several warnings and kept reading even when told it was most definitely time to stop.  Much wailing and crying begins.  I remained calm, which apparently made things worse ("You're not even getting upset!  _wail_ _sob_"), but eventually Geek Girl calmed down, too.

[Just a brief diversion to note that I think we're definitely in the early stages of pre-teen emotional instability.  Should be a fun few years...time to learn to meditate standing up.]

I gathered up some homework papers and the book and headed out of her room to get Mama Geek for their nighttime ritual.  Geek Girl followed me, which was unusual.  She gave Mama Geek lots of hugs, and hmmm, shocker - the book suddenly reappeared in her hand, having been oh-so-surreptitously picked up.  (Read: I saw it happening the whole time.)  I took the book back, and Mama Geek said, "Oh, we trust her, right?"

I picked up the cue and handed the book back to GG, saying, "Oh, yes, of course.  We trust you, Sweetie; we know you know it's bedtime, not reading time."

Back to Geek Girl's bedroom for our traditional goodnight ritual.  At the end, Geek Girl says, with a frustrated yet resigned tone: "I can't even sneak reading, since you and Mommy said you trust me!"  

I just smiled and said, "Well, Sweetie, of course we trust you."

Geek Girl: "Then why did you just pick up my book light?"

Me: "Well, you won't need it anyway, right?"

GG: "Darn it."

The other funny part is that she wants me to set an alarm for the middle of the night, which would correspond to the exact moment she was born.  I just said, "Do you know what Mommy would do to me if I woke up in the middle of the night just to come wake you up so you can be awake at the exact anniversary of your birth?"  

GG, just as sweetly as anyone could muster: "You could just set an alarm up here, just for me.  Mommy wouldn't even know."

Me: "Nice try, kiddo.  Go to bed now."

She is currently sighing and making the usual noises she makes when trying to fall asleep and not fall asleep all at the same time.  Plus residual sniffling.  I should probably go help with that.