Kids are funny. Except when they aren’t. I have three, and one is my carbon copy.
‘Luckily’ for Miss 10, she is often reminded that she is my mini-me. When you tell her that she grins from ear to ear, confident that surely that must mean all good things. I often wonder if people are referring to her wonderfully strong will and boisterous exterior, her predisposition to embellish a good story, or simply the fact that Miss 10 is very much the image of me? In any event, I love her just the way she is, and I am sure everyone else does too. She also says some funny things at times and lately I have even wondered about setting up a blog for her to share her exaggerated version of reality – you know, in case we aren’t already alike enough.
|Liv and I with my gorgeous niece in the middle.|
At an after school football practise recently, she embellished a story about how she is left SORROWFUL (her word, not mine) every night because I NEVER (except for every other day) go in to her room to allow her to vent the days’ events. Sorrowful! Can you imagine? And then when the adults all chuckled at her response (or perhaps they were chuckling at the fact that today was MY day to have my worst parenting moments put on display) she continued, “I thought turning ten would be the BEST YEAR OF MY LIFE! It’s been nothing but HARDSHIP! I’ll have to make sure I warn all the nine year olds I know that turning ten is not all that it’s cracked up to be!” Oh the drama! (She assures me that the cruise she just returned from with her Nana is an exception to the rule).
I’ll have to tell Miss 10 that turning 37 isn’t all it’s cracked up to be either! I may be more confident in my own skin and happy with where I am in my life, but sometimes the constant demands put on a mum of three young children can suck a whole lot of fun out of a girl. (I can assure you that my recent trip to South America is also an exception to this rule).
Strangely though, I wouldn’t swap my children for anything; even when they are being funny or not being funny at all.