With Love

I realize this isn't really fair. You have a job to do.
You are charged with taking this little creature
and guiding her to becoming a person. A woman. There are wrong ways of doing things, and right ways. Times when shouting is ok and times when whispering is the thing to do.

It really does matter that she eat a little of everything on her plate. That she not push her sister off the chair. That it's not ok to touch the cat there. Mustn't get in the bath until someone is there.

I understand that you need to teach her to do it herself. Help her to know boundaries, to live by a certain moral code. To overcome distractions, avoid temptation. And it's not that I am trying to undermine all the good that you are trying to do.
But you must understand that I have a job to.

I am hear to soften the edges, a golden sparkle playfully piggy backing on pink ears. An unexpected ray of sun reflected on flaxen tresses. An impish tickle, catching in an eye lash. I am your distraction and your temptation.

I, sweet parent, am the balance that lets you laugh from time to time, though you want to scream.

Love,
Her Curls