If our children came out of us semi-full sized, with fully functional hands, feet and mouth, Eve would have killed off the human race right after she produced Cain.
If she didn't actually resort to murder...there would have been but one child. One child capable of destroying the Garden of Eden in one fell swoop, all while mouthing off and knowing better than the first mom.
Certainly NO ONE would consciously reproduce again and again, having met the stage that comes between toddler and teen angst. I'm also fairly certain that it requires a certain degree of naivete to reproduce a third time having already seen what preschool looks like.
And yet, here I sit. Several children crawling all over me...looking forward to the year when ALL THREE of them know better than I do, and can give me the basic plot of a forty minute movie in no less than an hour and a half. That can bring up both constipation and diarrhea in the same sentence, and at the dinner table, all while topping it off with a general discussion of eating disorders. Nothing like the talk of bulimia to stimulate your appetite...
Or maybe I should be thanking my child for thoughtfully ruining my appetite after spending no less than ten minutes arguing about what I was cooking for dinner.
I think I know what's in the saute pan. Evidently she knows better. This conversation has a predictable end...I get irritated and she gets upset.
*BIG DEEP SIGH.
She's on her way out the door. Tall, well dressed, fashionable....completely and totally outspoken...so far from the baby who used to sit and stare me down. I will miss her the moment she walks out the door, but this minute...and the fiftieth diarrhea joke...I'm ready to pull my hair out.
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