I rode a roller coaster today. Actually, I ride one everyday. I hate these kinds of roller coasters. They’re anxiety-inducing, nausea-causing misery. I ride them with my 5-year-old, my first baby, these “behavior coasters” as I like to call them. Today it was about shoes in Target, yesterday it was about choosing the wrong underwear. Everyday, it’s about nursing her brother.
My first baby, this smart, witty, and sweet girl, is what you might refer to as a “difficult child.” Trying to guess what her reaction will be to a question, command, or suggestion is simply futile, and it sure is a tough way to live. The ladies in the grocery store say, “Doesn’t she have quite the personality…” Others remind me, like I need to be reminded, that I have my hands full. “Strong-willed,” most people tell me.
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