Dear Elli,
You just had a total emotional breakdown. As I'm typing this, you are finally soaking in a warm bubble bath, although every thirty seconds or so you look toward the heavens and mornfully cry the following: "Mama's being meeeaaannn!"
Why, do you ask, am I so mean? I'll tell you why. I'm a terrible mother because I refused to wipe your ass this evening. Seriously.
Do you have any idea how many times I've wiped your tiny ass over the past five years? I actually stopped typing in order to calculate it. I'm coming up with approximately 2,200, which includes some cushion for the numerous intestinal issues we've experienced over the years.
It was a labor of love. A labor that I genuinely didn't mind all that much. But I'm done now. DONE.
You are incredibly lazy regarding this one aspect of your life. You are perfectly capable of wiping your ass. You just prefer not to. I sort of get it. Why wipe your own ass if I'm willing to do it, right? Hell, if I had no standards for self-sufficiency, I might try this tactic as well.
I'm lying. I would never ask someone to wipe my ass. I have standards. They may be low, but I've got them. And they include not asking for an ass wipe.
You, however, clearly have very questionable standards. This is likely because you have your father's genetic code. I've seen some of the girls he was with back in the day. Very questionable standards, indeed.
But I still have hope for you. Because you also have my genetic code. That means you'll be awesome at a very limited number of things, one of which just happens to be effectively wiping your own ass. And being a sarcastic jerk. That's about it. Sorry.
I love you, and I'm going to make a fine ass wiper out of you if it's the last thing I do.
Mom
Comments