Meow

Because M doesn't have any siblings, I worry that she'll grow up weird. Lots of only children do, you know. Siblings keep you grounded. Literally and figuratively in most cases. Mind you I don't worry enough about it to have another kid though, IN CASE MY MOTHER IS READING.

To ensure that she arrives in adulthood with the normal quotient of odd ticks and personal issues, I endeavor to recreate the sibling experience by torturing her in much the same way a sister would. For example, by making fun of her hair and her taste in boy bands. Or saying "IS THAT YOUR BOYFRIEND" every time she mentions a boys name. Also, I like to point to random ugly boys and announce that he is her new boyfriend. I steal her stuff with out asking and then whine when she takes mine. Which she does A LOT. One of my other favorite pranks are whipping open the bathroom door and doing my best impression of a slasher film victims dying scream while she's taking a dump. That one is ALWAYS hilarious. It's amazing the kid can even poop at all, really. Then of course there's the classic "I'm not TOUCHING you" sing-song as you wiggle your finger an inch from someones face. She bites though, so I've pretty much given that one up.

Recently though I've discovered the master of all ways to annoy her. Meowing. Seriously. I meow instead of answering her questions. I text her the word meow at midnight. But the best? The best in meowing in time to the song on the radio ala the Meow Mix Cats. I'm not even kidding. She goes MENTAL. The madder she gets, the louder I meow. It's the perfect crime. What can she do about it? NOTHING.

It's awesome.

And anyway, I'd hate to think she'd run out of things to tell her therapist.