One good thing about kids who tattle is that I end up hearing little gems like this. "Mom, is Carter supposed to be eating handfuls of bacon bits?" Or "Mama, did you say that Sadie could play in the water in the bathroom?" Or "Mama, Carter's not wetting me stea-oh your chocowate." Or (at least fifty times a day, every day lately) "Avie/Presty/Carter stow my spot! Tehw them to get out and to weave me awone. She/he's not weaving me awone!"
Kids are honest. "Mama, you're not as skinny as Aunt Heather." Or "You have a wot of owies on your face, Mama." Or "Why do I have to clean my room? YOU didn't clean your room. It's a giant mess." Or "Are you just not as good at cooking as Daddy is?"
Sadie: When I grow up, I want to be a mama. Wike Aunt Becky, not wike you. So I can have a wot of wittow boys. And twins.
Do you ever find that one doctor who really gets you, is appropriately concerned, pays attention to all the little details, asks all the questions, tells it how it is, and really makes sure you get the care you need for whatever it is? Yeah, I really like that guy, even if he is honest just like my kids. "I can see that you've gained a lot of weight since I saw you just a few months ago.... Oh, and here's a prescription for more steroids so you can gain even more weight..."
And to make up for all their honesty, I do hear things like this all the time. "You're my wittow sweetie, Mama. You're just a wittow cutie. You're the baby, and I'm the mama. I can take care of you. I wuv you, wittow Mama." (We'll just pretend that it balances out the kicking fits and tantrums. It sort of does.)
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