Tuesday, February 24, 2009


The good thing about my eldest having had a cyst removed from her wrist? I have to shower her myself, ensuring that she is (for once in her life) actually CLEAN.

The bad thing? I have to shower her myself.

This is truly unpleasant, peeps. I had to carry a big plastic serving spoon (very flexible and flimsy, mind you) into the bathroom with me just to threaten to smack her (I didn't have to) when she started trying to cuss me out. All this AFTER she ASKED me to help her take a shower. Umm, honey, when you ask me to shower you, expect that I'm actually going to CLEAN you.

Now she's stomping heavily and slamming things around in her room because she can't put a bra on. Which tells me that she didn't bother to change the one she wore yesterday.

It's like living with a petulant three-year-old who's a good bit larger than I am, doesn't bathe, and who speaks as if she were taught by sailors.

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