And then God laughed at me

My first- and second-born children (Emma and David) both demonstrate traits characteristic of first-borns.  With 10 years between them, it’s not surprising that David is more like a first-born than a middle child.  They are both rule-followers, want desperately to please (well, Emma wanted desperately to please until she became an adolescent), are polite, well-mannered, pleasant to be around, and easy to discipline.  I, of course, chalked this up to superior parenting on my part.  I tsk-tsked at the parents of children who didn’t listen, who laughed when their parents tried to discipline them.  Probably not consistent with the discipline, I thought.  Too lenient. Said no, but then gave in.  Yeah, I had it under control.

And then God sent me Margaret. 

This is a typical picture of her.

Won’t stand still long enough to get her picture taken.

This is a typical video:

 Margaret lives large.  She talked in complete sentences before she was 2 (and I mean, like 11-word sentences.)  She has no physical fear. She makes hilarious faces. She sings at the top of her lungs.  She thinks she’s five.  She has amazing control over her body . She never walked, she just ran.  She’s very affectionate – constantly giving kisses and hugs. She’s absolutely delightful, and she makes me laugh all the time.

And she doesn’t listen. She laughs at me when I discipline her. She won’t stay on the naughty step, no matter how many times I put her back there. She gives me heart failure at the park, because she’s such a dare-devil.  Last week, she flooded the bathroom and smeared my make-up all over everything while she was supposed to be taking a nap (I was blissfully unaware of this, as I was in Pennsylvania.) 

So much for superior parenting.

I wouldn’t change anything about her.  But man, am I tired.

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