“Mommy, it just seems like fun isn’t really your thing.”
Well, not everyone has always thought so, kiddo. I’m sorry you get the mom version of me. The sister, friend, love, teacher, companion… she’s a fun girl.
And if only you knew how much worse this could be for you. Vegetables aren’t even on my radar.
Family legend says that I told my mom once, when I was about their age, “Your childhood was so much better than mine. I mean, look at the mother you had.”
She said, “I’m sorry to tell you this, but the mother I had is a whole lot like the mother you have.”
And history repeats itself.
I initiated building a snowman, for the record. Because I’m fun like that. Also, I didn’t totally lose my mind yesterday when I found the boys wrestling – while Tyler was holding a saw. I’m not even kidding. I just calmly asked him to put away the saw. Forever.
I think I’m fun. There’s fun in me. There used to be.
I just don’t think a girl’s measure of fun should come down to whether she’s willing to sleep downstairs on any given evening.
Someday, maybe. Just not tonight.
And I’m still fun. No matter what they think.