I love my girl child. Really, I do. She was such a sweet baby. I used to brag about how good she was. She slept through the night by the time she was six weeks old. We could take her anywhere and she was so good. We went to restaurants all the time. I mean, if this kid could have been born with a halo on top of her head, she would have.
I used to look down on other parents of screaming children in restaurants because my child was so angelic… and theirs was so… NOT.
Don’t worry, people. Karma kicked my ass hard and good because the second child, a boy, became the reason we quit going to restaurants for a few years. That’s a whole different post, the boy child. One day I will tell you the adventures of the boy punk, but today we are talking about the girl.
Anyway, my little girl is getting ready to go to middle school. She is starting to change.
(Just as an aside, I’m watching “Knocked Up” while I’m typing this. The main character, Allison, is going to all the gynos trying to find one she likes and the one just came on who said, “ooooh…that’s not your vagina, that’s your ass.”)
So anyway, tonight is a mixer at the middle school. The middle school beast who has taken over my sweet baby has decided we aren’t going because it’s stupid. I’m sitting here stewing over whether I should force her to go anyway…or if I can just stay home and be lazy.
Should I make her? It would be good for her to meet some other incoming sixth graders and meet the principal and some of the teachers. Plus we get pizza and dessert. I don’t have to make dinner (which, okay, I don’t do anyway, but now I don’t have to feel guilty that I don’t make dinner).