Don't really like you, either.

It had to happen sometime. I was finally told off by one of my precious little darlings.

And none of you will be surprised to learn that it wasn't by Caelin... of course. During the painful ordeal of having to get through an entire tiny bowl of mac-n-cheese, which is normally a favorite by the way, Gracie had dramatically thrown herself on the floor for oh, let's say, the fifth time.

Now here's where I should be blaming myself, really. Expecting a polite, well-mannered child such as Gracie to appreciatively accept my advice to sit her ass down on the chair was pushing it. I ought to be grateful that I didn't get the bowl of pasta right in the face, to be honest. Instead she told me off: "I don't like you, Mommy. I like Daddy, and I like Caelin, and I like Steffanie (who doesn't even live here, let me add). But I do NOT like you.".

Being a mature, loving, wise mother, I reached over and looked into her big blue eyes, and said "But I like you, honey". Well, okay. No. I didn't. I will embarrassing admit that yes, I said "Fine. I like Caelin better anyway. Go play with Daddy." Who wasn't actually home yet.

Strike two for the Mommy of the Year award. I won't be holding my breath when they announce "... and the award this year goes to..."