Aside from the glorious time spent at the new coffeehouse on Tuesday, the rest of the day fairly well sucked. It started with our stupid little idiot dog Murphy running away when took her outside. Of course, this happened while I was in ratty shorts and a t-shirt, with no bra or shoes. Nothing like going for a flopping, barefoot pre-coffee sprint after a dog that I was hating at that moment .

When I tried to hold her collar while walking her home, she nipped at me. She’s never done that. I tightened my grip and she fought her way out of her collar.

If there’s anything more fun than a flopping, barefoot pre-coffee sprint after a dog that I was hating at that moment, it’s carrying 50-pounds of disliked dog, baby-style, half a block.

The rest of the day progressed beautifully, what with the coffee and the writing and the pesto rolls and spontaneous jam sessions. I picked up Clara Jane at school, where she had a wonderful day … which came to a grinding halt the second we got home. I know she was exhausted, having gotten to bed late the night before, and she tends to decompress when she gets home from school. But my God! There’s decompressing, and there’s throwing a fit so massive that I end up getting kicked in the face.

It was sort of an accident, as she was kicking randomly while I tried to wrestle her into a Pull-Up. Why did she need a Pull-Up? Because instead of peeing on the potty, she was in such a snit that she threw her underpants at me and announced, “That’s it! I’m so mad I’m through with underpants!”

Now, I have a temper and I’ve been angry, but I’ve never been so pissed off that I felt the need to give up underpants.

Anyway, obviously this child, who didn’t pee while throwing her fit and underpants, required a nap and I wasn’t going to risk adding a urine-soaked bed to my growing list of Shit I Don’t Want to Deal With. And in the process, I got kicked in the face. I’m fine, but damn. That’s some cold shit right there.

She napped, and awoke in a delightful mood that continued through the evening. Until an hour after she went to bed. That’s when she started screaming like she was being strangled in her sleep. Brian went upstairs to see which limb she’d lost.

About five minutes later, she came down the basement stairs, sobbing to me. This is what I heard:

“Mom … girl …. frog … girl … parts … hat … I … can’t … frog!”

Now, you need to understand that, in my matriarchal lineage, the word “frog” is a euphemism for the female genitals. I haven’t continued this tradition with Clara Jane, but while in the throes of chaos it’s hard to remember such details and all I could think was, “Why is she so upset about not having a hat for her genitals?”

Brian came downstairs, just as Clara Jane flung herself in front of the stairs and screamed, “No! Don’t go upstairs! I don’t want you to see!” Over her head, I indicated to Brian that I had no idea what the fuck was going on. He indicated – I’m still not sure how – that she was upset because the girl frog on her bedroom wall had lost her hat.

When Clara Jane was one, I found these big stuffed frogs in chenille country bumpkin outfits that hang on the wall. I’m sure she can’t remember a time when she didn’t have these frogs.

I indicated to Brian – I’m still not sure how – that I didn’t recall the girl frog having a hat.

That’s because she’s never had a hat.

And yet here stands my child, distraught to the point where any passerby would assume ever puppy she’s ever met had just been run over by a street sweeper while she watched.

We tried convincing her that the frog never had a hat. Have you ever tried to convince a half-asleep, stubborn, sleep-deprived four-year-old of anything? Don’t bother.

We got her back to bed by assuring her that we’d make a new hat for the girl frog.

“She needs a straw hat. Will you knit her a hat with straw?”

Um, no. But I’m not above lying to my child when it’s nearly midnight and I’m trying to reign in massive hysteria over hats that don’t exist.

She went to bed, and I got out of teaching myself to knit with hay by taking her to Michael’s and buying a little straw hat, some purple silk flowers, and some glue to stick it on the frog.

The one on her wall.