I am a bad, bad mommy (apparently)

It's happened, and it has happened much earlier than I thought it would.  

This morning Veronica yelled in my face, "You are a bad, bad mommy!  I don't want you to be my mommy!"  

I don't remember what she was mad about.  I think it was because I wouldn't let her in the shower with me, even though it is a weekday and the rule is No Showering With Mommy Until the Weekend, but I can't be sure if that's what sent her into hysterics.  Maybe it was just because.  Because she is three-and-a-half, because she is a girl and we are prone to outbursts, because, because, because, BECAUSE.  Maybe all girls say this to their mothers.  But really, at this age?  

It actually didn't bother me when she said it, and it was all I could do not to laugh out loud. Most of the things she says to me are hilarious; this was no exception, and I certainly am not a bad mommy.  (Usually I am a good mommy, and sometimes I am just an average-to-middling mommy, but it is rare that I am truly a bad mommy.)  I didn't take it personally.  But as she said it I did feel sorry for her, terrible really, because she was obviously in the throes of some kind of preschooler angst that was very real to her.  She is already, at her age, a consummate drama queen, the biggest actress.  Her world mostly consists of dancing, singing, flailing about and very loud sighing, punctuated by the frequent, "I never have any (fill in the blank)" or "You always do (fill in the blank) to me".  She is, it seems, faced with injustice at every turn.

So I hugged her, and said it was ok for her to say I'm a bad mommy, because it was.  It was fine.  So she wiggled and really cried for a bit and fake cried for a lot longer, and finally she decided to move on.  I left her with her father and sped off to the shower before she could call me anything else, something much worse, like a bad cook or a crappy artist, things I am actually insecure about.  I wondered what else she could possibly call me as she got older.  And as I heard her begin the morning struggle with my husband over getting dressed, she yelled, "Mommy!  You are a Mad Scientist!"  I laughed.  That I can handle.