In the last post I may have come across as a little harsh. I was actually just trying to make a funny story out of what had been a couple of very trying days. Let me be perfectly clear now.

I love YaYa. You can't have her, no one can have her, she's mine. Yes, and her father's. And God's. Actually, she doesn't really belong to us at all, but we're still keeping her.

YaYa is the light of my life. She's the best daughter that exists, and I will challenge anyone who challenges me on that to a mommy-bragging duel. I went to town today with Kid A and Leaf, leaving YaYa with Chinua while she was sleeping, and the three of us almost died of boredom. We just slunk around the grocery store like depressed lizards. Kid A was upset with me, for pretty much the whole afternoon, (he actually said he felt "yucky" toward me) for taking him out on such a terrible, boring, errand-running trip. I know what he really meant. Without YaYa. I can't imagine life without her anymore.

It's just that there are those days, you know? And she is as fierce as I described, when she's crossed. Some days that's less than others. Some days I feel like Kid A, when he said, burrowing under my covers, (after he told me I "broke his heart" because I took a permanent marker away from him) "I want to go far far away and be alone-- I want to sail far away in a boat, all by myself. I will have to cry and cry. My animals will go with me (you can see him leaving sad land and entering imaginary land) and then I will jump into a plane..."

No Kid A, I thought. That's me. I don't know about the animals, but I'm the one who wants to get into a boat and sail away. That's some days.

And then there are most days, when you couldn't tear me away.