a perfectly decent (albeit small) kitchen - if my angel baby were to have one not-so-angel-like time of the day it would be late afternoon. When we get home from school and before dinner she tends to be, oh how do I say this nicely, a handful. Rightfully so though as I'm sure all she wants is some quality loving with the woman who gave her life yet chose to abandon her every day in exchange for a paycheck. We are all so hurried to get dinner started and on the table that down and dirty playtime can sometimes be a one baby show. Therefore compromise is in order - you tear apart every cabinet we have, grab every bowl and chew on every measuring cup available and I won't get mad as long as you don't harbor resentment into your teen years because your evil parents sent you away every weekday from 7:30am - 4:30pm.
It makes it worse that I throw goldfish at her to keep her happy, doesn't it? Is it just me, or do second (and subsequent) children start getting treated like lovable pets?
Would I dare have done this with the first child? Oh wait, I did....
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