This is the face of a professional pouter.

She has been able to pop out actual tears since the moment the good doctor shimmied her out of my lady hole.

I’m pretty sure she has ADD, but at 4, I’m pretty sure they all have ADD. (I wouldn’t know because her 5-year-old sister has been able to follow 5-step instructions from the age of 2. I’m not bragging exaggerating.)

She is unpredictable.

She is hilarious. She TRIES to make us laugh, and we genuinely do.

She can throw a tantrum like Johnny Weir throws a triple-toe-loop-triple-salchow wearing fur skating to Lady Gaga.

It’s mind-boggling.

This face.

I’m used to the pout and her ploys, though I still see her beauty and cuteness.

But that doesn’t mean I’m giving her candy for breakfast or a pony for her birthday.

That’s what grandmas are for.

This is it.

I’m done.

I’m out.

I can’t take the silence anymore.
I can’t take the click-aways.
I can’t stand that you come, read, then leave.

I’m tired of being here alone.

I need to feel the sunshine on my face.
I need to take bubble baths.

Enjoy your online lives because mine is over in 2.0.

No more.

My next post is definitely NSFW or NSFF (not safe for family), so I’m checking sumthin.

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