Like sometimes, I'm mildly annoyed at my kid.
And sometimes I find good coping mechanisms for dealing with it.
But sometimes he really starts to get on my nerves.
And it's hard to keep my cool, especially in public. It takes quite a lot of effort.
Because really I just want to yell or break things or sell him for yarn money.
But of course, even thinking that, I end up feeling like a completely terrible mother.
Because I should be proud of my little goober. He tries so hard.
But then I remember ... he's three. ... though, in that respect, not completely dissimilar to Michael G. Scott.