The Truth Hurts

My daughter is my favorite child this week. She has said things to me like, “Mom, your hair is so pretty today!” and “Mom, I love it when you read to me. Your voices are so funny!” She has listened when I asked her to clean her room. She didn’t turn the bathroom into a swamp when she took a bath. Plus, her birthday is this week so she gets extra bonus points for that.

Greatest Child in the House

My youngest was the favorite child last week. He started off saying cute things like, “Tank you, Mama.” when I’d let him snack on an apple. And he said, “Mom, I don’t say shut up. That’s not nice.” So now I know that he’s actually learning something. Unfortunately, his sweetness did not last. I asked him to eat supper one night and he cried all through dinner. Did I say cried? I meant shrieked. Then after dinner, which he did not touch, he followed me around yelling, “Your bad mom! Leave me alone!” That’s right. He followed ME around yelling to leave HIM alone.

My oldest I have decided will never ever ever be the favorite child ever again. It has nothing to do with him trying to stifle his chuckle when I said, “No balls at the table, kids.” And it has very little to do with the fact that he left the shower knob flipped up in the tub so when I turned on the water first thing this morning, the back of my head got soaked. And I’m not even going to hold it against him that right at this very moment he is in the other room singing “Peanut Butter Jelly Time” in an octave Kristin Chenoweth couldn’t even hit. No, what he did was much worse. While I was checking his homework he said to me, “Wow, Mom! That’s a really nice mustache! I mean it, I am jealous!”

No Shave November, anyone?

In an unrelated story, Meijer is now out of Sally Hansen lip wax, so if you’re in need, you may want to hit up Kroger.

Thanks for reading.