Well, it's already happened. Yesterday, I was emptying out the stack of crap that had collected on the front seat of the truck when I noticed something. My husband has been dropping our daughter off and picking her up from daycare on days when I work. Usually when he picks her up there is a note from the daycare telling us what Layla did that day. You know, when she ate, when she slept, when she pooped etc. They also throw in cute little things like, "Layla really enjoyed playing outside", (code for she threw a fit when she had to come in). However tucked in with "Layla really enjoys playing in the sandbox" was "Layla needs reminded not to hit or push" Gasp......! Ok so my little darling is now the bruiser on the playground. I immediately start picturing in my head, Layla pushing some cute little pony-tailed girl in a frilly dress off one of the ride-on toys and standing over her victoriously. I see her sitting at the table, smacking the little boy next to her, then jerking the box of crayons away. Who knew my quiet perfect little angel had it in her. I blame the Irish, it's in our blood.
