6 o’clock this morning my five year old came into my room and told me to wake up, because he wanted waffles. It was not an unreasonable request, nor an unreasonable hour. Even still— it took me a good ten minutes to remember that I am the mom, not the kid, and I have to get up and make him breakfast.
That ten minutes of arguing with my son that I don’t want to get up and then the realization that I have to get up makes me want to call my own mother and apologize.
Being a grown-up is bullshit. Where the fuck is my pony??