I just realized I forget to pack a snack for Savannah. Great. That will surely be the first thing I am lectured about this afternoon.  Too bad Savannah’s efforts to embarrass me in front of all the other parents will go to waste since we are one of the few English-speaking families at her school. HaHa! I win. This time.

I couldn’t figure out why my kids were constantly trying to make me look bad until last week. I noticed during a couple of school functions that they seem to be their teachers favorites.  They are those kids that get tons of coddling and attention from every adult they meet.  Yes, they are wonderful, smart, attractive, well-behaved in public children but I need to warn everyone that they are master manipulators.  

I have watched Jackson pout his way into the arms of every attractive female daycare provider he’s ever had.  I am disgusted that my three year old is a womanizer who surely takes the prize for youngest pick-up artist on the East Coast. I recognize that little player grin he gives me when they scoop him up just as he’s starting to cry.  He doesn’t feel abandoned, this has been our routine every weekday morning for the past three years. And just for the record I do not tell him I’m going to pick him up early to go do something special every other day. He totally makes that up. 

Of course, he’s learned it all from his sister, the ultimate Drama Queen. If Savannah has asked to be sent to the clinic to lie down because she is so weak from hunger, know that the reason she didn’t have breakfast is usually her own fault. Yes, I was the one who let her sleep ten more minutes, mostly because I was in fear for my life. But she decided to take a 45 minute shower leaving me no time to make a second breakfast when I forgot to heat up her syrup before putting them on her waffles. Apparently this makes them inedible.  If she is shivering and begging to go inside during recess because she doesn’t have her winter coat It’s not because I didn’t tell her to wear it.  It’s because her coat didn’t go with her outfit. Same with her shoes for gym.  Or maybe today I’ll get a call from the guidance counselor because she had to be removed from class after breaking down in tears during story time over her hamster that died over a year ago.   That one worked really well at home until I had to face the fact that I can’t afford shopping therapy and she sure didn’t look sad in all of her new High School Musical accessories.

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