Hella Rain

When I woke up this morning, it was a balmy, sunny 70 degrees in Assstoria. So I called my friend Lizzie and we threw the kidlets in the car and hauled ass to Long Beach. Except, by the time we got there, that sack of shit weatherman's prediction had come true and the sky had hardened to a bitchy gray and looked like it was about to crack open and bring a world of rain on us.

So we went to Rachie's house instead. Rachie lives two blocks from the beach and her house is always spilling over with kids in superhero costumes, neighbors stopping by for margaritas and mac'n'cheese, and nasty little Chihuahuas that bite at your ankles. And she never locks her door. I know I can write this because she admitted that she never reads the blog. So, everyone go rob Rachie. Just kidding. She doesn't really have any stuff to steal. But she's still a great friend and she was an exceptionally patient and generous host today.

The kids ended up playing so hard that they were totally exhausted on the ride home, but they didn't nap. And of course we sat in slow, rain-smeared traffic all the way home, and Lily and Justus were doing an ok job of sharing snacks and not pinching each other or tattling until about 3/4 of the way home when Justus piped up suddenly with, "Maaaawmee!"

We turned around and he was holding up a ballpoint pen and he said, "Lily told me to write on my face."

I turned around to see Lily crouched down next to Justus with her eyes squeezed shut and her fingers jammed in her ears, like as if by tuning out the response of the two irritated mothers up front, she could pretend that she'd never made such a nasty little demand of her sweet friend.

I just don't understand why my daughter is so bossy and passive-aggressive with the boys. I simply cannot for the life of me comprehend where she could possibly have gotten that trait. I am, quite frankly, at a loss.