So, last night was all bliss with Chase, and this morning she woke up in a funk. Those mornings are the longest...it is only about 45 minutes, but every one of those minutes is felt completely and very slowly. This morning it was a jacket issue. She seems to break zippers frequently, and this one is missing the pull for zipping it up. She decided she couldn't wear that jacket and wanted to wear a hoodie. The only problem with that is that it was 20 degrees out, and she had to have a heavy coat. The minutes began to drag. Then I turned off the lights on the Christmas tree so that we could see the bus pull up out front. That's when I became the "Wicked Witch." (Everything has a Wizard of Oz reference, seeing as she watches it every single day of the year.) I quickly became the "Flying Monkey," a step up from "Wicked Witch" when her spirited display of anger escalated. I don't always handle things well, and this morning I turned into a yelling "Flying Monkey." Forgive me, sweet Chase. We will have a better afternoon.