…says to me, “Wow, eClaire never cries like that when I watch her.”

I might just have to inflict serious punishment such as locking that person inside our 1100 sq ft house for seven days-in a row-without the air conditioner on-with two children-TV banned-the only food in the house being liver and spinach.

Maybe that will cure the need to tell me how she’s so much better for him than me.

Saying this to the mom who is tired, I mean ti-red of her daughter crying each and every time a diaper needs to be changed, clothes put on, or when the apple juice is presented in the wrong cup. (The cup preference, by the way, changes daily-hourly-by the minute.)

And let’s not talk about the shoes. Oh the shoes! eClaire is a shoe Nazi. They have to be the perfect pair of shoes (again the preference changes daily-hourly-by the minute) and SHE, the 17 month old, must put them on.

See any problem with this?

So after I enter the door and my dear daughter begins to cry, please hold your tongue. Don’t tell me that she never cries when you have her. I already know this little bit of information.

I guess I’m the lucky one.

No excuse me while I fix myself a drink.