For all of you readers who have little babies or even have shrieking toddlers, this is what you have to look forward to:
Please tell me exactly what drug my daughter was on when she wrote me this Mother's Day poem:
Ode to Mom
Ode to my mom, who is nice as a tulip. (so far, so good)
You are as elegant as a polar bear. (wha?)
You are as sweet as a square.
You are as light as a cloud.
You remind me of Texas full of love.
You like shrimp, your favorite meat. (true...)
You remind me of fall, so colorful.
You're good at cooking everything. (says the girl who eats nothing.)
I love going to museums with you. (?)
Thank you for being great.
I know I shouldn't be snarky about this. I know I'll probably go to hell for it, but COME ON! I remind her of Texas? What the fuck?
Then, I asked her on Sunday if there was anything she wanted to say to me, and she went in her room and wrote this:
Followed this morning by, "I'm so glad Mother's Day is over." as if ALL THE EFFORT (none) that she put into Mother's Day was simply exhausting.
That last comment put me over the edge this morning and I gave her what for and froze her out all the way to school. Little shit.