Brace yourself, people.  MAJOR update.  Mommy and I had a talk.  About how I am CLEARLY the most highly evolved member of our family.  I think that’s what she meant anyway.  Her exact words were, “Oh, Emma.  You are such a cutie patootie.”  (Sometimes you have to read between the lines with Mommy . . . and overlook the rather undignified questions about what might be in my diaper.  But I digress . . .)   We agreed.  I should play a bigger role in “her” blog.

Let’s be honest, people.  Mommy has been at this for a year.  But some of her recent entries . . . How should I put it?  The words “phoning it in” come to mind.   Did anyone read last week’s post on my big brother Jacob’s budding romance?  Okay, first off: EEEEEWWW.  And secondly, HELLO?!?  I WAS NOT MENTIONED ONCE in that post.  Unacceptable, people.  Just unacceptable.  Clearly, it’s time for me to take over.

American public: YOU’RE WELCOME.

Anyway, I figure I’m good at reporting on my day.  So, why not report on everyone else’s?  For example, when Mommy picks me up at preschool each afternoon, I give her a full run-down.  It usually sounds something like this.

Mommy: Emma, how was your day?

Me: Gooooood.

Okay, truth time, people. I don’t know how else to answer this question.  I’m supposed to give a one-word answer, right?  So I say “good”.  Because I don’t know a single word the means “My-slowly-advancing-plot-toward-world-domination-took-a-half-step-backward-today-when-I-discovered-that-it-will-be-years-before-I-have-unfettered-access-to-technology-and-some-form-of-currency-plus-that-little-boy-Logan-at-school-put-banana-in-my-hair”.  Anyway, I like to keep it simple.  “Good” seems to make Mommy happy.  Then I launch into the specifics.

Me: Mommy!  Daddy, book, bye-bye.

Mommy: Daddy read you a book this morning and then said “bye bye”?

Me: Yes.  Daddy crying.

Mommy: Did you cry when Daddy said goodbye?

Me: NO!

As if.

Me: DADDY CRYING.

Mommy: Daddy cried when he said goodbye to you?

Me: Yes.

I’m assuming.  It seems reasonable.

(OF COURSE THE MAN WEPT: I’M. ADORABLE.)

For some reason Mommy always laughs when I say this.  Really, Mommy?  Is your heart THAT COLD?

Me: Mommy!  Cheese.  ‘cado.  g’apes.  Teacher gay-me.

Mommy: Wow.  Sounds like Daddy packed you a yummy lunch.

Me: NO!  TEACHER.

Mommy (grinning): OOOoooh.  Your teacher made that lunch for you? Sounds delicious.

Don’t be smug, Mommy.  You know that that lunch appears in my lunch box every day at noon.  The teacher just plates it for me.

Mommy can be exasperating sometimes.  (Just ask my brother.)

Let me be brutally honest, people.  The blog is not the only thing I am taking over.  I mean “helping” with.  I practically EXHAUST myself on a daily basis trying to keep this family from falling apart.  Just a few examples . . .

Sunblock.  It’s summertime.  It’s hot.  It’s sunny.  And The Emma does not like to burn.  Which is why, every morning, I must politely remind Mommy to give me the tube of sunblock in my backpack well before we need to leave for school.

Me: Mommy!  BLOCK.  BLOCK.  BLOCK.  BLOCK . . .

For some reason Mommy only hears me when I say it fifteen times.  (Weird.)

Mommy: Emma, it’s 5:30 in the morning.  You don’t need to put on sunblock now.  We won’t be leaving the house for hours.

Mommy, a girl can’t be too careful.  Do you see any wrinkles on THIS skin??  NO.  I didn’t think so.  NUFF.  SAID.

And then there are Jacob’s glasses.   If I didn’t remind the boy to wear them AS SOON AS HE WAKES UP EVERY SINGLE MORNING, he would have forgotten about them ages ago. Sometimes I even have to try on Jacob’s glasses.  To make sure they’re still working.  (I’ll be honest people.  They don’t do a damn thing for me.  I suspect they may not be turned on.)

And of course, when we pick Jacob up from camp every afternoon, I need to remind Mommy to bring home his backpack and lunch.  And then– because I am nothing if not thorough– I need to rifle through his lunch box and figure out whether his lunchbox grows better food than mine.  Occasionally I find some leftovers in there.  Mommy almost never lets me eat them.

RUDE.

Just thinking about everything I do on a daily basis is making me tired, people.  TIRED.  TIRED.  TIRED.  I’ll be honest, The Emma could use a vacation.  Hmm.  Maybe I should see what I can find on TripAdvisor . . .

Until next time.