If Charles in Charge was a Girl. And a Dictator. Resolution #7

Youngest Daughter is going to take over a small country one day. She is working on her dictator skills and has already formed a junta. We fear her. But she does it in such a harmless-Scott Baio way that you don't even realize you've been overthrown until it's over. And then she is living in the basement and running your house and looks suspiciously like Chachi.

Take this weekend for example. We spent the night at an old friend's house, where a group of adults and children congregated for some reminiscing. (It was really lovely, by the by. What could be better than old friends sitting around a table, drinking wine and eating pasta and laughing together? Nothing. Except when you all get together again around the same table 8 hours later for some pancakes and coffee. They are all terrific people who haven't tired of my Junior High humor...yet. Suckas!)

Youngest Daughter walked in and exhibited her cuteness to the adults in power. YD then promptly hit each adult up, separately, for 'just one piece of candy'.

MATH LESSON
Eight adults x one piece of candy = eight pieces of candy in 20 minutes. 


This gave her the sugar she needed to power the teenage girls upstairs into giving her a makeover. One hour later, YD reappeared with fuschia eyeshadow from lash to brow, hot pink lipstick, carved out blazing cheekbones, and mascara. Very tasteful, if you are scheduled for your pole dancing shift in a half hour. But was anyone upstairs going to deny Imelda Marcos another layer of cosmetics? Not if they valued their texting privileges and didn't want to end up being investigated by her secret police.

There were twelve kids in the house, and only one was younger than YD, and yet, all of the kids ended up doing what YD wanted done. Chase the dog? Done. Put on makeup? Check. Give her your priceless childhood toys? Okay. Play her favorite songs? Definitely. Even the kids playing Wii were told the games they played were being played for her. Like if Vladimir Lenin required a command performance, but in Wii instead of a flutist or military demonstration. As long as someone was doing something, it was to be done in her honor. And yet, somehow, she still managed to charm people. We left still friends with everyone, and YD had a pocketful of candy and a new toy someone gave her.

We arrived home on Saturday afternoon, and the kids wanted to have Family Night. CH and I suggested we play Euchre and have sandwiches. A few moments later, YD walked into the room carrying the game "Clue".

ME: "What are you doing, YD?"
YD: "We are going to play Clue."
ME: "We are?"
YD: "Yes. Because everyone should be in-CLUE-ded." (Her emphasis.)
ME: "Okay, I guess we can play Clue."
YD: "And we are having pizza. I don't want sandwiches."
ME: "Um, I guess we can have pizza. What do you two think?"
(I look at the other children, who are cowering in the corner and nodding.)
YD: "And I will be Miss Scarlett. And OD will be Mrs. Peacock. And you will be Mrs. White."
ME: "Why do I have to be Mrs. White? Maybe I want to be Miss Scarlett."
YD: (Looks exasperated.) "Mom, I am Miss Scarlett because she is young and in the pretty dress. You are Mrs. White because she is the housekeeper."

Oh. No. She. Didn't.

Just when I was going to give her a lecture about seeing me as her housekeeper, she turned up her sweet face and whispered, "Mom, Mrs. White knows the house better than anyone. She would be the one who knows who did it the fastest, so you can beat Dad."

DOH! She got me. How do the kids know my purpose in life is to emasculate their father? I guess I do want Charles in Charge of me. But there are pitfalls to following Little Miss Caligula's lead.

RESOLUTION #7: Do not become YD's Willie Aames/Buddy.

Because after Charles in Charge, Buddy became a junkie, a minister, appeared on Celebrity Fit Club, went broke, had a yard sale to keep his house from foreclosure, separated from his wife, and became a financial adviser. So once my Charles in Charge leaves the house? I could be screwed. And in syndication.