After J Boy and I suffered through forty minutes of screaming and wailing and a great gnashing of teeth from his sister on the way to school today, I need this exercise to remind myself I love her.
Lindsey, you love her, you love her, you love her.
That helped.
Somebody do something about this child.
Has anyone realized that a car is basically a sound chamber? You can really have a thorough and nuanced experience of your child's agony. Not to mention clear understanding of her vocal range and breath control.
Here we go.
5. They are cute. Does anyone else in your house have those glossy round cheeks and plump little lips in your house? No. And it's a ploy for compliance.
4. They are audacious. J Girl's new trick is to lean against the couch and say to her brother "My coach." After a spirited round of what belongs to whom, she upgrades to "My daddy/mommy," and effectively sends her brother into a tailspin. Mission accomplished.
3. They point out your flaws. After noticing we had some dirty dishes in the sink, she decided to cram all her play food and utensils into the sink in her kitchen. It would barely hold a bowl of cereal, so it was really a more life-like representation than I appreciate. Maybe this is a reason to unload her.
2. They make you appreciate your older children more. Does J Boy overturn anyone's glass to see what will happen? No, he knows what will happen and is not interested in the consequences. J Girl, however, is fascinated with the consequences and (I'm pretty sure) likes to see how I react.
1. They give you opportunities to exercise virtue. Oh, how I would enjoy losing my everloving mind a few times a week. Do I? Yes, but only on the inside. Or in frantic text messages to James and my mother.
And let's be honest, white slave traders would hand them back after about 24 hours anyway. Wouldn't you if you unwittingly bought a two-foot-tall psychopath?
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