We were at Costco the other day when she decided to have a toddler fit, she was mad because she dropped her snack on that nasty floor and I wouldn't let her eat it. Then the screaming and kicking started, oh boy! There was a little boy in line checking her out and the next thing you know she yells "hey, don't look at me" oh my goodness. She has a nasty tone to her too I tell ya. Same thing happened at pizza that night, only this time she was being sweet and cute and smiling and the next thing you know she tells the lady behind us to quit looking at her. Oh goodness! So awful! She's so sweet to look at and I'm sure that's not what people expect, but it's what they get. How do you control that?! We get mad and tell her that it's not nice, I don't really think she cares!
Yesterday we went to Eugene for a baseball game and breakfast, it was like carrying a loaded gun. You were on your toes the entire time just incase the gun "accidentally" went off {maybe gun is a bad example, it is not meant to offend or upset}. It did a few times and those innocent victims would say how cute she is and that it's okay... NO it's not okay! Holy crap! She's like an old lady ~ she just says what she wants and gets away with it!
On the way home Jason accidentally ran a red light at a turn signal, he just cruised right through - I told him he just ran a red light and when she heard me say it - she plain as day said "a red one?!!" "good God, Dad!" Oh crap! That was funny! She is completely UNPREDICTABLE! I do not know what the years will mean for us with her, she is going to give us a run for our money. I don't know who will challenge us more, her or Brady. Lord hear our prayers!
Speaking of prayers I found this - it's a prayer from Tina Fey to her daughter.. funny and so true!
A PRAYER FOR MY DAUGHTER - FROM TINA FEY
First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.
May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.
When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.
Guide her, protect her when crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.
Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels.
What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.
May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.
Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short - a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day - And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.
O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.
And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.
And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.
“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.
Amen.
Tina Fey, Bossypants, 2011
