I confess I have been a bit down on the girl lately, but it’s only because she hates me with the thorough thoroughness of a thorough teenager, and not just because I make her do things like brush her teeth, do her homework and even, on occasion, bathe. No, she hates me for my essential me-ness. I wear too much pink, I talk too much, I chew too loud, my lips move when I read, I ask too many questions, in short, she wonders (and, might I add, out loud) how my friends can stand me, which really sort of hurts since my identical twin sister has always felt the exact same way. (Did I mention I have an identical twin sister?)
(clearly) Me on the left and my doppleganger
But I digress. The point is, if I am a bit down on girls these days it is simply because I have one. A teen-aged one. Who wears lots of black and purple. Meanwhile, my boys kinda rock. There’s the Big Guy who after years of being truly difficult is finally settling back down into the sweet handsome darling he was as an infant (things turned ugly at a young age for him).
And then there’s the Little Guy. He's the only one of our children who consistently turns out great Lifetouch school photos. I ask you, what’s not to love? (Wait, don’t answer that! You might leadeth me into temptation.)