When I was 18, I baby-sat 3 very energetic little girls. One of them, now 19, came to visit for a couple of weeks. It was heaven. I love her energy, her heart, the way my son fell in love with her instantly, the way my kitchen would magically be clean when I would come home...and that's just the beginning.
But things turned nasty when I put her laundry on the bed and I decided to try these on:
I was oh so painfully reminded that:
A. I am not 19
B. I do not have her tan legs
C. I have had a baby
D. I only work out once a month
I made her leave immediately. Sigh. Not really, I just decided to accept that my season for short cut-offs is officially over, and I should stick to my spray tan and knee shorts. And then I made her change a poopy diaper.
Because if I have to deal with reality, she has to join me.