Kids are stupid...

...but probably only because they spend most of their time trying to act like adults. I mean, have you seen Flavor of Love? We adults are setting the bar pretty fetching low.

Today Brooklyn threw a sweet fit. She was actually upset over a timeout levied earlier in the evening but launched into a vocal and violent protest vs. Brittiny such that I had to start her on an additional timeout.

Why time her out again, you may ask? Often enough the first timeout doesn't "take" and must be repeated in both frequency and severity. It's like going to a chiropractor for "adjustments". It's not uncommon for a healthy 2 year old to require a baker's dozen of "adjustments" before lunch.

So at this point I'm pretty sorry for the kid, since she's visited the well-worn timeout corner a few times already that day. Walking her down the hall I feel like the a-hole prison Warden, Drumgoole (Donald Sutherland) from Lock Up introducing Frank Leone (Stallone) to his cell. I kneel beside her and say, "Brookers, you need 3 minutes of timeout to cool your jets and think about how mean you were to Mommy." Judging by her reaction she clearly hears Warden Drumgoole's voice sneering out: "This is hell, and I'm going to give you the guided tour!"

Anyway, so 3 or 20 minutes pass - I wasn't keeping a close eye on the time - and I go back into Brooker's room for the post-timeout routine.

"Why are you in timeout?"

"Because I was hitting Mom like this (punching the air) and kicking her."

"Thank you for telling me what you did. Now please go tell Mom you're sorry and promise her you won't hit her again."
"No. I no want to."
"Brooklyn Margo you will march right up to your Mother and tell her you're sorry for hitting her or you will stay in timeout all night long."

At this Brooklyn hops down off her bed and marches, arms gesticulating wildly in the air with each step, knees kicking high off the tile floor - she's actually marching, the same way she does to her stupid Barney video where a bunch of annoying High School the Musical rejects march and prance around and pretend to give a crap about a dog named BINGO - all the way down the hall. Mom is sitting on the couch, so Brooklyn leans in and says, quite unctuously:

"I'n sorry Mommy fo' hitting you."

"Thank you, Brooklyn. I forgive you."

Brooklyn pauses for a moment, standing in front of the couch, then turns and runs full speed back to her room crying all the way. Those present to witness the apology are left to ponder its significance: Had we witnessed tears of joy from the soul-cleansing catharsis that comes only from true repentance? Was Brooklyn contemplating the far-reaching love of a selfless mother who so easily forgave her trespass? Did the gravitas of the intricate relationship between mercy and justice just bring a two year-old to tears?

If you answered "Yes" to any of the above three hypo's you obviously don't have kids. To look into the eyes of a sly two year old, when, out of necessity she is forced to apologize, is to see a stubborn will tortured by the realization of its own weakness.

Though her lips may ask forgiveness whilst tears flow down her porcelain cheeks, her heart cries out: "You'll never break me, Drumgoole!"