When I was pregnant with my daughter I would joke that I wanted her to grow up to become an evil scientist. Now that she’s four, I’m thinking this is not outside the realm of possibility. These are the tales of how I’m emotionally stunting my daughter. Criminal attorneys of the future, you should use these in her defense.
You know how stubborn and snarky I am? Well my husband is about the same. I might have mentioned before that we’re functionally dysfunctional in our marriage. I mean, we go out of our way to pick fights with each other. I ask him to do something, and he always says no. Even as he’s doing it. There’s a large amount of sass in the house.
So really, is it any shock that our daughter is just as snarky?
No, of course not, but it’s still funny when she comes out with something just over the top awesome.
For example: Sometime in the past year, there were three generations of Lurcock women in the bathroom. My sister was getting ready for work, so Gen just had to be in there with her to help put on make-up or something. I don’t know. I didn’t get that gene. My mother was also in there, feeding her yogurt. I was checking the laundry.
Gen saunters over and asks what I’m doing. I explained I was checking to see if the laundry was dry or not. Thinking this would be a good time to get her pumped for chores (it’s never too early, folks) I hand her the sock and ask “Is this wet?”
She looks at me with this look. You know, the one where you’re ashamed that this idiot is your parent. And then- completely deadpan- she tells me, “no, it’s a sock.”
My daughter, ladies and gentlemen.