I have spent much time smugly admiring my handiwork (the kids). No FFS!?
They are awesome little mini-me’s. No FFS!?
They are mini-me’s. FFS!?
Miss7 has taken to mimicking me with her siblings, by reprimanding them as I would.
At the top of her lungs. In public. FFS!?
To those not in the know, she appears to be a mouthy, bossy young girl. FFS!?
But she’s just being me. FFS!?
Miss4 was a born tyrant, only now she’s putting the sentences together properly, so it no longer comes off as cute, Yoda-esque gibberish. FFS!?
She is really, really clear when yelling ‘shed words’. FFS!?
Like, for example, FFS. FFS!?
No clue where she got that phrase from…..FFS!?
Mstr4 just tells everyone to shut up. FFS!?
So he’s a rude 4 year old, but he always follows it up with a kiss. No FFS!?
I’m not sure if I’m more concerned about him telling everyone (and random inanimate objects) to shut up; or the fact that he’s so liberal with his kisses. You literally never know where those lips have been. FFS!?
I have spent the week observing The Feral Threesome, marvelling at how they interact with each other. FFS!?
I have spent the week jumping up and down like a screaming banshee, telling them off for how they speak to each other. FFS!?
I have spent the week listening to 3 little mini-me’s, echoing me. Like 3 tiny mirrors. Or really good copy cats. FFS!?
It’s like when you watch The Real Housewives of the world’s annual reunion shows, and they have to watch the playback of their most nasty, potty mouthed moments. Re-enacted by your children. FFS!?
Minus glamorous ball gowns, cocktails and Andy Cohen. FFS!?
I am not looking forward to modifying my behaviour. It’s been 34 years in the making. I don’t like my chances of turning into Super Nanny / Gwyneth Paltrow / Mother Teresa / whichever mother genuinely doesn’t drink or swear….overnight. FFS!?