That Girl of Mine

There is no doubt left that this child is mine.

Just this morning, she was climbing on the computer desk (which she's not supposed to do). I've grown weary of pulling her off of it, and figured at some point, she'd fall and that would learn her. Well, today was the day.

It took only a second to make sure there was not that horrible scream that every mom knows means injury, and I went in to help her up. I asked her what happened, and that's when the girl started cussing a blue streak.

Now, since she's not yet two, I didn't get all of the four letter words that she might know (where would she learn this stuff?...I'm going to have a talk with her father), but there was no mistaking the tone of her voice. I was able to pick out a few key words and phrases.

I believe she started by cussing Nick (because he causes most of her anguish, so it's good just to get that one in for good measure).

She cussed the floor she fell upon (how dare it be there).

She cussed the computer (which caused the placement of the desk).

She cussed daddy (she must have known he assembled the desk with little help from me).

She cussed the entire Chinese nation (who made the desk in the first place).

She cussed the driveway (for being outside while she was inside).

And she cussed the fact that we have no Pop Tarts. She really likes Pop Tarts.

Yep, she looks all kind and innocent, but inside that little blond head lives a temper. Just like her mama. (Can you hear my brother laughing?)