So I have these two kids. Brilliant, gorgeous, hilarious kids.
One of them just turned four and the other is just over a year and a half. The older one is daytime-potty trained. The little one can do a fantastic Jack Nicholson impression.
You’ve never seen blue eyes like these two have – one gray-blue the colour of much-loved blue jeans, the other liquid blue the colour of a shallow lake.
They’ll make you laugh when you least expect it and amaze you when you don’t see it coming.
The taller one is a fantastic ballerina, when she can manage not to fall. The shorty can rock a hip hop beat like nobody’s business.
They’ll crush your heart with sweetness – hugs and kisses and ‘I love you’s’ all day.
They’re the greatest thing that could ever happen to you. You’d be lucky to spend even one day with them.
Do you want them?
‘Cause I’ll cut you a deal. Two for the price of one? What’s the going rate for kids these days? I’ll give you a twofer and throw in a slightly used dog.
Because the big one? Won’t stop crying, screaming hysterically, really, about everything and anything. It’s actually getting kind of funny, but not quite, so do you want her?
And the small one? Has decided spitting in mommy’s face is the most entertaining thing ever. And also enjoys headbutting said mother in the teeth. The very expensive, purchased teeth. You can have her.
And the first born turned 4 on the weekend, on paper, but she’s more like 15 and I don’t like it. Backtalk, eye-rolling, hands-on-hips attitude. Take her. Please.
And the second born wants to do everything herself. “Avery DO IT.” She wants to get herself dressed, despite her inability to get herself dressed. She wants to change her own diaper, poopy diapers, despite not realizing how utterly disgusting poop on her hands really is. I’ll pay you cash money to remove her from my house.
Noooo, not really. I love my children (I love my children, I love my children, I love my children). I miss them when I’m away for even a couple of hours. I would die without them. They are my light and my heart and my life.
But, seriously, kids. Smarten. The eff. Up. Or I’ll sublet your rooms to questionable exchange students and leave you out on the streets with nothing but a change of clothes and a bag of fishy crackers and not bat an eye. Because I can.
I BROUGHT YOU INTO THIS WORLD; I CAN TAKE YOU OUT OF IT. Or something.
Just stop being so mean to your mommy. You’re starting to hurt my feelings.