The last word is something I have always believed I need to have. I have long struggled with that issue. If either of my parents were alive to agree, they would. I know my sisters and husband are nodding in agreement at this very moment.
Even though Diego is adopted he has somehow 'inherited' the last word gene from me. The child absolutely has to have the last word. He doesn't even realize he's doing it but he does seem to gain pleasure from watching my blood pressure rise and pushing me to my limit.
I try to not show him my frustration but usually end up telling him it's best to be quiet before "I pull this car over" or "make him sit in time out" or some other motherly threat that I know he isn't falling for.
At times like this I find some of the last words my own mother gave me echoing in my head: "I hope someday you have a child who acts just like you." Hmmmm... What did she know that I don't? Could she see into the future or something?
I can at least have the last word here, in my blog where I can say whatever I want and that's that.... well, unless someone posts a comment...
When Anxiety Attacks
7 years ago
Posts
2 comments:
Well, it looks like you have competition - - I always have to have the last word, too! So here it is! HA!
You just thought you had the last word, but behind your back I always had it. So there,
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