-That we have some rational phobias around here? I know, by their very nature phobias tend to be irrational but I’d be content with “normal” ones. You know, monsters under the bed, the house catching fire, no Christmas presents. Instead, Tess is terrified of a pirate attack (silly land-locked girl) and Ellie was nearly reduced to tears driving under the radio towers on Skyline Deive. “They’re sairy!” she yelled. That same drive had the oldest three sick with fear that we were lost.
-That you go potty when I ask you if you need to go and not 5 seconds later when I’m up to my elbows in cookie dough/ground beef/dog barf? Thanks. That’d help.
-That you wear your undershirts, you know, UNDER your shirts instead of foregoing your Jammie tops for plain white tees and then, with t-minus 4.25 minutes left before we HAVE to leave for Mass, announce you have none clean?
-That you would NOT wait until I am, ahem, “occupied” to show up in the bathroom doing the potty dance with a pained expression and frantically announce you have to go too?
-That this baby would not spend 98% of its time attacking my bladder?
-That napping would happen during nap time? How am I supposed to do Christmas stuff or nap myself if I’m policing beds?
-That you not sprinkle the stairs with Legos or counting bears or ANYTHING? Are you trying to kill your mother?
-That you not stand outside the bathroom door while I’m in the shower and list your complaints in alphabetical order and expect me to fix them immediately when I can’t even hear you?
-That you be just a little more patient with me in my crankiness? You know I love you crazies.
*Check back later for the missing Montage Monday. Like a fool I went and misplaced my purse and the camera and thus all the photos. I hope to find the missing pics and get them here soon. Spoiler alert! They’re pretty sweet!
