Marriage and living arrangements

For anyone out there who may not know, parenting can be absolutely exhausting. You're supposed to do the right thing, all the time, even when you don't want to...for example, although I'd like to give The Dictator everything he wants, all the time, to keep him quiet and non-screaming, I can't. And as much as I'd like to tell PPT that of course he can have his own cell phone, and would you like the texting package with that?, it's just not the right thing to do. So we parents spend a large chunk of our time fighting the urge to give in for the reward of quiet for two minutes, and instead battle, battle, battle.

And most of the time, you still screw up, and they spend their adulthood in therapy, griping about how traumatized they are that at the age of six, you didn't buy them the blue Razor scooter, you got the red, and how on earth are they ever supposed to get over your negligence as a parent?

Bad parenting is just so much easier that good parenting.

But I've found that most times, the little people redeem themselves when we need it most, and remind us why we love them so very much.

The conversation in bed last night with The Dictator:

D: I'm sad.

M: Why?

D: Because when I'm married, you won't live with me.

M: (Cold heart melting) Well, I can live next door to you.

D: And Daddy?

M: Sure, him too.

D: And PPT?

M: Yep, we all can.

D: I want you to live with me when I'm married.

M: OK, I can do that.

The Dictator's wife is going to be pleased.