Cutting grapes in half.
Yes I know the plate trick. Also I don’t want to do that. I just don’t. So no more grapes for you until you are grown enough to chew your food like a normal person or we get you out of that damn daycare with all of their safety rules. Safety. Pfft.
Looking at that little potty. Full of pee. And crap. And making sure the dog doesn’t eat it. And washing twelve pairs of Dora/Frozen/TMNT undies every weekend. Over it.
Your hair is effing beautiful. You have no idea how lucky you are. Yet you scream like I’m trying to cut your ears off every single time I bring a brush near you. I’ll shave it off. I swear to god I will. Fine I won’t. It’s too beautiful.
And lunch. And dinner. Cooking in general. And while I’m at it, grocery shopping too. Don’t feel like doing it. Boring.
Putting my kids in their car seats.
OMG. DO IT YOURSELF. But also don’t learn how because then you’ll know how to get out and that’s terrifying.
I happen to be a bit of a grammar nerd, and I know cursing is lazy, and I know that a parent isn’t supposed to curse. But dammit I like it. I can’t even do it here. And I really don’t want my four-year-old telling her friends to eat s*&!. But I neeeeed to express myself.
Picking up toys.
Looking at toys. Buying toys and receiving toys. Toys, toys everywhere. You are spoiled rotten and all you want is more toys. I can’t wait until you’re old enough to just want to stare at your phone like the rest of us.