I used to look at kids on leashes and think snotty thoughts about their parents. I used to listen to the stories John told me about the many times he ran away as a preschool child, with random strangers and police officers bringing him home, and the neighbors saying to the policeman, "That woman NEVER watches her kids--they're always running all over the neighborhood," and think, "Not me." I used to think that any child could be taught to behave properly, given boundaries and discipline.
Let's say it together, shall we? "Shut up, Layne!"
Because it seems increasingly likely that Pinga has been sent here for the sole purpose of humiliating, enraging and defeating me. And though I still think leashes look crazy, I can understand why people use them. I quite literally can't ever take my eyes off of Pinga, or she's in the road, or locked in the car, or eating gum off the top of the fridge, or sneaking over to the neighbors' house to paint her clothes and body with fingernail polish, or tearing the end off her toe, or being brought back to me by a stranger who found her wandering around (these have all happened at least once since last Wednesday). And yeah, there are probably a few things (many things) I'm doing wrong that make her so mischievous and wandery. But I'll be darned if I know what they are.
So I'm sorry, everyone, for judging you.
On the JST of Hebrws 10-13
1 day ago
3 comments:
There's nothing like being a parent to help you understand where everyone else is coming from. I lost one of my kids almost daily and found him once on top of the very grouchy neighbors two story roof thanks to a ladder leaning against the house.
Sounds like, genetically, it's John's fault. (lol)
Whoa, Barbie! You win. From now on I will say to myself, "Well, at least she's not on the roof."
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