I wonder how long it will before my kids peg me for the fraud that I am.
Maybe hypocrite is a better word.
“No you can not have a cookie! We’re eating dinner in just a few minutes.” As I sneak an Oreo while stirring the spaghetti sauce.
“You can’t get up from from the table until you finish those peas.” I cover my bowl of half-eaten green spheres with a napkin.
“Get in bed. You’ll be tired and cranky tomorrow if you don’t get enough sleep.” Then I stay up too late blogging.
Perhaps one of my finest parenting moments, one I repeat more often than I should, is when I shout, “STOP YELLING!” to my son who’s running around inside the house blaring his outside voice.
Do as I say, not as I do.
I guess that’s the perk of being an adult. You get to make the rules, and you get to decided when it’s OK to break them.
I mean I’m a grown-up. I can handle it, right?
Never mind that I couldn’t finish my peas because of the cookie I ate right before dinner.
So what if I swill coffee all morning, because my eyes are bleary from a too late night? It’s not like I’m yelling at my kids because I’m tired, and on edge from all the caffeine.
I’m always telling my oldest to, “listen to me.”
Maybe I should start listening to myself.
Right after I watch too much TV tonight.