It’s hard to be your mom sometimes. You’re very opinionated. You’re very smart. A little too smart.
Well, okay. So maybe it’s not hard to be your mom, just a mom in general.
You touch me a lot. Especially the soft spot on my belly. Part of me is glad I have that little soft spot because who wants a hard mom? Also? That soft spot is from you. So really? It’s okay. It’s just awkward out in public (and I mean awkward in the proper sense of the word.)
I think every day this week has gone from the worst day of your life to the best day of your life in a matter of hours. You have told each of us (including sissy’s new boyfriend) that we have ruined your life at one time or another not to mention you have pestered me within an inch of my life with questions.
You’ve become a picky eater, you’re about to lose a tooth and you’ve started using the word “appropriate” in inappropriate situations. You suckered grandma in to buying you Barbie Bandaids and you insist that Grandma and Grandpa’s new dog is yours. So needless to say I’m not looking forward to the moment we pull away leaving the dog behind and you go on a rampage demanding a dog.
But you’re funny. I’m going to be keeping you around and working on my patience. You could never ruin my life. And no day could ever be the worst day of my life if it involves you. You love me so much, and most of the time that comes through in you touching me and hugging me and touching me and squeezing me and petting me a lot. A LOT.
Not to mention the questions. And the rebellion. And you’re only 5 (and a half.)
But still. I love having you around. Sorry if I get frustrated and threaten to pop your head off…you laughing at me when I threaten such a thing is the proper response. Keep it up. xx