Dear A

My darling, firstborn of my heart, I love you. That being said, you have no chill and you are driving me nuts.

I know things are stressful with T. Bringing a new kid into the house, especially that whirling dervish, is stressful. I get it. But you are nearly an adult, and sometimes I wish you would act like it.

Whining about chores, crying if you don’t get your way, and snapping at everyone in range is the behavior of a toddler, not an older teen.

Of course, I have a bit of a conundrum where you are concerned. Because you aren’t really your chronological age. In reality, you are substantially younger. You are so darned smart that sometimes I forget that you are so much younger and more vulnerable than one would expect. Still though, you drive me nuts.

I am continually caught between compassion and frustration with you, my dear.  It is an extremely confusing state to be in.

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