My eldest daughter informed me last night that I am a “…really, really great mom.” Now I am choosing to believe that the sentiment came from a rush of affection for her darling mother and a recognition of all that I do and not just because I showed up to softball practice with a cooler full of popsicles. (Although, come on, that’s pretty darn good, too.)
Apparently, she says that other (lesser) parents don’t show very much interest in their kids, while a second school hover and treat their kids like, well, children. Oh, joy! My offspring are interpreting my desperate attempts to get one freaking minute to myself as respecting THEIR independence. Yessss!
…I always said that negligence would pay off in the end.
‘Really, really great moms’ bring popsicles. I'm pretty sure that's one of the central tenants of ‘really, really great’ motherhood. 🙂
I'm your charity, aren't I? Commenting on my posts so I feel like somebody reads them. It's the Lord's work, really. Bless you 😉