After what feels like a non-stop marathon of champion eye-rolling, I was sitting at dinner with my girls tonight. Their Nana and I had somehow managed to survive a day of lunching and shopping and girl-ing, in general. Nana, God love her, had somehow found (count 'em) two matching Wedding Barbies and, for a brief moment, all was right with the world. I was no longer the dreaded and hated Mom and it was all sunshine and cupcakes.
Then, the Five Year Old From Hell felt the need to steal her unsuspecting sister's Wedding Barbie to, of course, taunt her with it. (What is it with you older sisters, anyway?) Doing my best to qualify for the Olympics in eye-rolling and sighing, I decided to tell my eldest the ugly truth.
"You know, life isn't so great after you're a bride." They stopped dead in their tracks. "What?" they asked in disbelief. "I said, life isn't so great after you're the bride."
"What do you mean?" the Five Year Old pondered aloud. "Well, after you are the bride then you have a husband with stinky socks and two crabby, bickering children that fight over their Barbies."
Blank. Much pondering going on.
"Well this is different, Mommy. We're not having stinky husbands and children. We're just having the wedding and that's it."
I stand corrected. As usual, the Five Year Old is wiser than her years. And her mother.