Smarty Pants. Squared.

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It’s a known fact that no mother has ever been able to resist the urge to brag about her child—and I’m absolutely certain it has been this way since the dawn of time.


“My Ooga already draw horses in cave!” I can imagine one Cro-Magnon mom telling another. “Your Unga draw stick figure. My Ooga—HORSES!”


Fast forward to the twenty-first century and mankind has evolved to the point that we’ve managed to create the world’s handiest tool to accommodate our incessant bragging—blogs. Of course, we moms like to say our blogs are places for us to vent and commiserate about motherhood, but let’s be honest.


There’s a whole lot of bragging going on up in here.


I say this so that you won’t hold it against me when I tell you that my children both were born with an extraordinary talent—Each has the amazing ability to tell when the other is getting attention.


I know, it’s incredible, right? But true! Five-year-old Punky could be upstairs with her bedroom door closed and headphones on—and the moment I settle into an armchair with Bruiser in my lap for a little one-on-one time with my son, like magic, she appears!


“Why are you holding Bruiser and not me?” she’ll say pitifully. “I want you to hold me, too, Mommy.”


It happens every. Single. Time.


Bruiser’s sixth (or would this be … seventh?) sense is even more finely tuned. When I’m free, he barely gives me the time of day. But the moment I have something crucial to take care of for his sister, like, say, helping her with her homework or making her lunch before school, he’s all up in my grill.


“Mommy! I want to watch Toy Story!” he’ll say, rounding the corner as if prodded by some sort of electric current.


“Okay Bruiser, but first I have to make Punky’s lunch. We have to leave for school in five minutes.” I turn away and quickly begin slathering mayonnaise on a piece of sandwich bread.


“Mommy! I want to watch Toy Story!”


“Okay, but first I’m going to make Punky’s lunch.”


 “Mommy! I want to watch Toy Story!”


“Okay, but first I’m going to make Punky’s lunch.”


“Mommy! I want to watch Toy Story!”


“Okay, but first I’m going to make Punky’s lunch.”


“Mommy! I want to watch Toy Story!”


“Okay, but first I’m going to make Punky’s lunch.”


“Mommy! I want to watch Toy Story!”


“Okay, but first I’m going to make Punky’s lunch.”


“Mommy! I want to watch Toy Story!”


“Okay!” Inevitably, I cave. “Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay. I will put on Toy Story. Even though it means that Punky will either be late for school or have no lunch. I will put on Toy Story. Because you obviously can’t live one second longer without Toy Story!”


Bruiser pauses. “Yaaaaaay!” he shouts, glancing triumphantly over at his sister. “Yay! Yay! Yay! Yay! Yaaaaay!”


Yes, my children are extraordinary. I bet your children weren’t blessed with this phenomenal talent.


And if that is the case?


Consider yourself very, very lucky.

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