I seriously love my kids. They are my heart outside my body. So, when the heart outside of my body in the form of my mini diva looks like this:
instead of this:
then you will have no question as to why I look like this while dragging her out of the library when she’s screaming at me:
That’s right. I look like a crazy person smiling to detract observers from catching on to how insanely embarrassed and shocked I am to be walking a normally temperate child screaming “nooooo!!!” out of the local dollar store. (But not nearly as nice-I’m saving the environment by only washing my hair every two.. three.. maybe four days.)
The kid is trying to drive me nuts. Two days in a row now I’ve had to take her adorable but absolutely bratty behaving self out of a store or library because she refused to stop pouting, talking back, or just being obnoxious. I love her to bits and pieces, but if she doesn’t stop I’m going to have to start hunting wild boars to relieve some stress. Kidding! I’ll just spend her college savings on make up and shoes.
In case you were wondering this is what I normally look like: