I think I have documented before how much of a wimp I am when it comes to addressing some touchy issues that my kids bring up.
I guess I’m just not ready to imagine my little ones actually growing up. I just want to hold them and squeeze them and smooch them forever and ever. Alas, they seem to be conspiring against me. In fact, they insist on getting bigger and becoming more and more mature.
I hate it.
Case in point. I am changing Swee’Pea into her pajamas this evening and I sit her up to put on her pajama top. She is holding her plush kitty that is her bedtime companion and she is rubbing the soft animal against her chest.
At this point, she looks up at me, points to her three-year-old chest and says, “Kitty’s tickling my beauty marks!”
Beauty marks. Right.
Why do these things happen to me?
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