Um, excuse me up there: you're not listening to me. Which makes you exactly like most of my children (okay, all of my children). Sigh. I have been having one of those weeks. Months. Years? Okay, yes. It's only February: years. I look at one of my children (usual disclaimers apply: I love all of my children dearly, wouldn't trade them, etc.) and think to myself, "You are the child I always begged God not to give me." Brief explanation: growing up, I prayed that God would not make me deal with having a particular kind of child (because I had that sibling and I didn't know how my parents did it). Understand, I'm not talking about a disability or anything like that. Call it a personality type. One that is particularly challenging when confronted with my own personality type. Let's just say it was difficult to grow up with that child as a sibling. It is infinitely more difficult to be raising that child (with the ghost of my sibling never far from my mind - I really am a therapist's dream).
Heh. Therein lies the rub. Someone has to be the grownup around here. I have the unfortunate and distinct feeling that I am she.