And she is asleep.
And if Layla comes and bangs on her door (RIGHT next door to our room), I'm gonna knock her out. Knock. Her. Out.
So perhaps she has a new skill? Or maybe she's always had it, and mama was too wussy to let her try it.
How one moves from the lofty goal of raising good kids, to seemingly unattainable goals of keeping them alive and not killing them.
Aaaw... Bittersweet, isn't it?
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