It's me. Annie.
I realize that you only give people what they can handle. But seriously, after my day yesterday, I am beginning to think that you hold me in high regard. Thank you, sincerely, thank you for the flattery, but I have a question for you. Do you think that I am a superstar or something? Is it possible that maybe, just maybe, you may have me confused with someone else? Someone who has buckets of patience, for instance. Just asking.
Yesterday, when Ellerie decided to run around the house in her usual birthday suit, I was OK. I was even OK when she colored all over her naked body with a blue sharpie marker that she found in her sister's school supplies. (By the way, blue is definitely her color. ) When she peed on the floor two times instead of in her designated potty, I didn't bristle. I just looked at it as an opportunity to shine my floors. But, when she tried to stick a carrot from the refrigerator on her, you know . . . hoo-ha, and then said, "Wook mom! It's cold!" that, that put me over the edge. ( I suppose it could have been worse, though. At least she didn't channel Linda Blair.)
So, dear God, I am writing to let you know that I can not handle a daughter that has a future in Girls Gone Wild videos. I am a strong woman, but not that strong.
In the future, please direct my little angel to keep her veggies on her plate, where they belong. I will continue to do my part to keep her in clothes.