The Devil Wears Nada

You know how about two months ago I was singing the praises of turning four? Of how great it was now that Rollie is four years old, he's so much easier to get along with and does eeeeverything I say now, and it's almost like having another adult (albeit one who enjoys potty humor just a little too much) in the house? I believe the word I actually used to describe Rollie as a four-year-old was...angel. Which I guess is sort of fitting. Lucifer himself was an angel at one point, right?

I don't know why I do this to myself. I brag about my kid being potty trained to someone, and two second later my kid pees in her undies right in front of us. I tell someone else how my kid is pretty outgoing, while my kid hides behind me and avoids eye-contact like a guilty defendant. I ask my kid to write his name in crayon so his granny can admire his penmanship, and instead he shoves the crayon up his nose and laughs like a stoner watching Aqua Teen Hunger Force. Kids can sense when you're asking them to perform like trained monkeys, and instead they act like the kind of monkeys you see at the zoo who throw sh*t at each other. So charming.