(I realize that I have a son, NOT a daughter. But that song is stuck in my head, so I made it the title of my post. I apologize for any confusion that might cause.)
When you were a kid, did you ever watch yourself cry in the mirror? You know the situation. You start crying because your mean ol mom tells you you have to clean up your room, even though you JUST cleaned it a month ago and can still see an inch of your floor peeking out from the so called "clutter". And then once you start crying, you get so entertained with watching yourself in the mirror that you just end up crying for longer than what is considered necessary.
You remember that, right?
What? No one else did that? Well... me neither. I just heard about someone who did. Ahem.
Anyway. Zachariah has started doing that very same thing. And it cracks. me. up.
I was sitting on my bed folding laundry (a rarity in this house) when Z tried to pull a plug out of the wall. I told him not to do that and he got MAD. I mean, ridiculously mad. The kind of mad that you get when your van stops working after only two years of driving it. Though I suppose that is a totally different post.
So yes. He got mad. And he stood in front of my mirror and cried.
And then stormed over to my nightstand, snatched a tissue out of the box and came back over to continue balling his eyes out.
All the while I am sitting on the bed taking pictures and trying my darnedest not to bust out laughing.
And is it horrible that while I am taking these pictures I am thinking "Ooo, this is going to make a fun blog post" ? I mean, seriously. That cannot be normal. I may need to seek out some therapy or something.