I am typingwritingtypingworking when the middle-school hurricane comes in and starts talking before she ever takes a breath.
“So, I was having a fight with XXXXX, and I said, ‘this is not all about you.’ ”
“And XXXXX said, ‘yes, it is. It is ALWAYS all about me.’ “
“And I said ‘listen, I don’t care who you are, nothing is ever all about you. EVER. Faster you learn that, the happier you’ll be.’ ”
Then, just like that, she blows out of the kitchen and into her room.
And I think, just for a moment, “perhaps I am not sucking quite so bad at this parenting thing as I fear.”