My children are smartasses. I just have to throw that out there. They're also intelligent, kind, and humorous. But lately, in their teenage kingdom and my parenting hell, I seem to get the smartass.
Yesterday was a windy sonofagun here. More than usual. And that's saying something. Well, the electric had sputtered at least twice earlier in the day. (I hate resetting all the clocks. It irks me.) Then once more when I got home. And then in the evening as I was about to cook something, once more.
I'm like...What the HELL?
Middle Chicken looks at me and says, "Mom. Observe. Then ask questions."
I arch my eyebrow and reply, "That is soooooo coming back to bite you on the ass. You realize that, right?"
Or when they pop off something really snarky. And I have to compose myself before speaking.
I ask: "Where in the world do you get things like that?"
Oldest Chicken rolls her eyes. Looks at me. And says, "I wonder."
3 weeks ago