My five year old is a drama queen. She really, really is. Everything is too hard, nothing ever works out her way, and life just isn't fair. It's all a little much to take, sometimes.
Ever since this trait has appeared we have wondered where in the world it came from. We came to the conclusion that somehow the same genes that grace my little sister, also reside in Tayleigh. (Sorry, Em.) Shortly after we came to this decision, however, I had a small, shall we say, epiphany.
In my mind's eye I saw myself walking down the aisles of Albertson's with all 4 of my children, on a weekday around 4:30. I was there picking up the one necessary item for the meal I had planned for dinner that night. My phone rings. It is my husband calling to tell me that he doesn't need lunch for tomorrow. (Translation: I don't have to make something that has acceptable leftovers.)
"What? You couldn't call me 10 minutes ago?" as I fling myself over the cart and finally find myself sitting on the floor in the middle of the aisle. (but we were in Albertson's and therefore, in no one's way)
Hmmmm. Maybe blaming the drama queen gene on my sister was a little premature. . .