Our girls: they are just like us. Which you know, is great and all because it means that there wasn't a mix up at the hospital and we have that wonderful legacy thing. But like us, they are fearless, opinionated, strong willed, and, oh my sweet hell, did I mention fearless? Therein lies our problem.
Our girls: they just might be the death of us.
(FTR: the boy? He sometimes is the only thing that keeps us from ditching these little carbon copies of ourselves on the side of the Interstate 75 because he reminds us that they are just babies in the whole scheme of things.
Today, somewhere along the long road between Atlanta, Georgia and Ocala, Florida, the girls reached a nadir of sorts, a nadir of batshittery that reduced everyone (except The Boy) to tears. I won't go into detail, except to say that the word POOPYHEAD came up more than a few times and one or another of the mothers in the car was fired.
At one point, my child was getting unbelievably lippy towards Catherine and to add emphasis to her verbal assault, she waved her finger in Catherine's face. Finger-waggings are not tolerated.
In response to this digital defiance, Catherine told Gemma about the Finger Goblin. The Finger Goblin, Catherine explained, is a ravenous goblin who takes the fingers of naughty children who wave their fingers in the faces of adults. Catherine told my girl that her uncle was on the receiving end of one such goblin and lost his pointer in the process.
What was Gemma's response to this cautionary tale?
Without so much of a pause, Gemma stated "Well, Catherine, have you ever heard about the Mouth Goblin? HE STEALS MOUTHS FROM MOUTHY MOMS."
Girls: 1. Moms: 0.
This is going to be a looong trip.