Who do you think YOU are?

Eight year olds.

I hate them.

No, really.

Eight is the time in a child’s life when they’ve come to realize that you are not only imperfect, but you may, in fact, not know anything at all!

So-and-so’s dad can do “x” better than you!  So-and-so’s mom is better at doing “y” than you and she’s nicer too….

You go from being their hero to zero in far less than 60 seconds.

I hate them.

Eight year olds possess an attitude unlike any other group of humans.

“Whatever”

doesn’t often come out of my daughter’s mouth (I’d have to kill her) but her eye roll is a little harder to control and hide.   And of course, I know nothing and she knows everything.  I thought when my son went through this stage that it was the influence of his brattier friends (they all have friends we think are brats!) but no.

I tried again to convince myself this time around: it’s not my perfect little girl, it’s her less pleasant friends.  But it’s not only when she’s spent time with them….it’s pretty much

ALWAYS!

Someone told me this stage lasts until she’s about 25, I nearly fainted. Somebody help me…I think I may not survive it this time.  Somehow it’s much worse on a girl.  Much worse.

I don’t remember envisioning strangling my son.

I don’t remember being as hurt by him either.

I hate eight years old.
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