To my precious son,
You are not my conjoined twin. We cut the umbilical cord in the hospital for a reason. Go play. Stop crying like you're being waterboarded if you're not being held.
Naps are great, but if you go to sleep after 7:00 from now on, this will be considered bedtime. You're going to have to work this out. I'm a sleep deprived mess and I'm not going to take it anymore.
Thank you for not getting sick this week.
Lots of Love,
Mama
****
To my lovely daughter,
Crayons are not food. Candles are not food. That spaghetti you won't eat, however, is food.
Thanks for dumping corn starch all over the entire dining room. It was slightly easier to clean off the surfaces than sunblock.
Pulling on my hair is not a good way to get positive attention. Shoving your face in front of my face when I'm trying to blog or read stuff online is not a way to get positive attention. Jumping on my back when I'm trying to get your brother to finally take an early nap is a good way to get yourself exterminated.
It is physically impossible for us to occupy the exact same space. Back.The.Hell.Up.
The next time you get sick, please make sure to get something that your doctor can identify on the spot.
Lots of Love,
Mama
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