The Kidling has been on a weeks-long whine binge. Nary a word is spoken in the sweet contralto with which she was blessed and every sentence she utters makes my blood pressure spike. And you know what? It turns out anything said with a whine loses all traces of humor.
Friday afternoon, my bored, exhausted, post-long-day-at-the-office-with-mom child was getting ready for a sleepover.
Brilliant, Mama. Brilliant. Impeccable timing, no?
I have no idea what I said or did, but finally, she had had it. Hands on hips and voice raised ten
million decibels, she shouted at me, “I’m at my rear end!”
I was at my rear end, too… until the Kidling shouted at me. Then, I regained my perspective–and my sense of humor–and thanked the universe that I got the crazy munchkin I got.