Apparently, Louis CK says that if you haven’t stuck your middle finger up at the back of your child’s head, then you’re doing parenting totally wrong.
I can’t find a link on the ‘net to back that quote up. I like it anyway.
I am near ready to murder my daughter.
The Bump, one day off being a four year old ‘big girl’, is a screeching, wailing banshee; intent on irritating myself, her brother, and the Most Amazing Man to the point where we’re all ready to snap.
And, of course, I no longer have the back-up of my own mum to take her off my hands, to speak some sense into her, to nullify the temper tantrums.
The worst part about is, she’s so damn cute that a lot of the time you forget how disgusting she can be.
She’s been screaming at me for the last half an hour.
I’m planning on wrapping her birthday presents tonight, after she’s (finally) gone to sleep. Right now, the thought of doing anything for her is filling me with a hot, childish kind of impatience.
I remind myself that I’ll feel differently, once she’s in the angelic grasp of sleep again. It’s difficult to feel any animosity towards her when you’re looking at her perfect nose, her long eyelashes, her cupid’s bow lips.
Until, of course, she wakes up screaming in the middle of the night.