Grateful for My Kids


It seems that having kids increases both my level of aggravation and my degree of gratitude each year. It’s worth it. Some things I am especially grateful for this year:

My four-year old loves me more than Transformers (though when asked by his daddy if he loves us more than Christmas, he said “let’s talk about something else now, guys”).

My kids believed the Halloween Fairy ate the rest of their candy.

My four-year thinks I’m the best hide-and-seeker because I’m the “smallest grown-up” he knows.

My two-year old wants to smell everything: “Mommy, your earrings pretty! Can I smell them?”

Having kids gives me an excuse to watch the Wiggles. Because the Blue Wiggle is…you know…such a good dancer.

My four-year old announces “cuddling emergencies.”

My two-year old calls me his “cutie-boy.”

Croup isn’t nearly as bad as it sounds when it wakes you up at 2 a.m.

My four-year old wants to be a paleontologist when he grows up. My two-year old wants to be a dinosaur.

I was ID’d in a restaurant a week after my 37th birthday. (Nothing to do with the kids, I know, but I just thought I’d throw it in there.)

Once again, I get to eat an amazing home-cooked thanksgiving dinner without having to prepare it.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

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