A tenderheart and a tattletale

He’s a boy: She’s a girl. He says please: she says now. He says yes: She says No. He would rather be seen, she would rather be heard. He gives in: She stands her ground. He says I love you: She says I love you too. They are unique; I love them as they are. He is all heart, she is all trouble (not really, but it sure seems that way). They speak for themselves…

The first born, my son:

I went to a Pampered Chef party last night, I came home found this note on my pillow, it read (exactly):

DeAr, mom

thak you for holing my hand throh cemo. I had a blast hat my hunt you r the best mom ever. I hope you had a good time on my hunt. Im srue you did but I thenk that you r prude of me and I hope that the cemo is going awawy and we dodt have to wery about the cemo.

I love you

Jackson E ******* (he actually wrote his last name; I’m not disclosing it)

The second born, my daughter:

We’re on the way to the ballpark, Jackson is on the phone with Jeremy…

Greer points to Mark and says, “My Daddy?”…
Points to the cell phone and says “Jack-Jack Daddy?”…
Points to me and says “Mommy?”…
And clearly announces her revelation for the day: “One Mommy…Two Daddies!!!”

I gave birth to a tenderheart and a tattletale…should I even test the waters with a third?

Any Questions?
© Chaos