Outside her brother’s party with Uncle Tommy
(If she wasn’t wearing a dress, her pants would be on fire from all the lies she told this weekend)

Have you ever felt like you manifested something?  

I don’t mean like a random wish that came true.  I mean like seriously manifested something.  Or perhaps someone?  Like an actual person?

I’m starting to feel like I’m responsible for the personality of my granddaughter.  And quite possibly a few more granddaughters following closely behind the first one…

Let me explain.

Almost everyone knows I’m a mother of 5.  Three daughters, followed by two sons.  I’ve made no secret through the years that my sons were easier to raise than my girls.  Most people say that boys are harder when they’re younger, as they’re destructive and don’t always follow basic commands.  Most will also agree that girls are challenging when they’re older because they’re lippy and dramatic.  I certainly found that to be the case.   Girls ARE harder, until they become mothers themselves.  

With that said, I once told a good friend, 

“I hope my children’s children are the brattiest brats to ever crawl across the face of the Earth!”

In my defense, I was super exasperated with all my daughters at the exact same time. It was a bad day, during a difficult time.  I’m usually not 3 for 3, but that particular day I definitely was.  Believe me, my friend never lets me forget I said that.  She says she and her own mother still laugh about it from time to time.  

Okay, whatever, judge me if you must, but I know EVERY mother reading this has AT LEAST ONCE uttered what I affectionately refer to as, “The Grandma Curse”  If you haven’t, you’re either a way better human or you have way less children.   “The Grandma Curse” is where you ever-so-briefly hope your children get to feel a little payback one day for what they’ve heaped so heartily upon your parental plate.  I promise you, your own parents wished it upon you.  I’ll wager it’s been going on for generations.  I’m looking up there at you Great-Grandma!

This brings me to the past weekend with my threenaged granddaughter…

It was her brother’s birthday, so I thought she might feel special (and get out of everyone’s hair) if she spent the night at LayLay’s.   She was tickled.  On the car ride over, she told her mother, 

We’re almost at LayLay’s house!  She’s going to be sooooo excited to see me!”  (Self-esteem ✅)

Now, this child is my Mini-Me when it comes to guilty pleasures.  She loves:

-Junk food




-Staying up late watching TV

She’s also unusually obsessed with:




-Home decor

This is evidenced by a comment she made to her mother the other day when she inquired why her mother didn’t wear “make-ups” every day.   When my daughter, an attorney and busy mother of 3 replied, “Time Constraints!” she unsympathetically admonished, “When I’m a Mommy, I’m gonna wear make-ups every day!”   

Now, before those of you well-coiffed, mani/pedi’d readers become overly-enamored with this glamour-shaming tot, let me add one more more trait to the list:

-She lies

After I went out of my way for 18 hours to host a sleepover any 3 year old girl would dream of, she had the audacity to go home and tattle-tale!  On me!

My daughter called within an hour or so after her arrival home to tell me the child had the audacity to claim she was “starving” (my family never employs the word “hungry,” as we are always “starving,” unless, of course, we are “famished!”).   She maintained that Laylay never fed her(???) 

Liar, liar, pants on fire!

Her brother doesn’t eat pizza because he doesn’t like cheese (so NOT my Mini-Me) In an effort to make the evening special, I ordered an enormous pizza!   I even had it delivered to the house and made a big deal out of it.  We stalked the delivery person on our security cameras.  (Don’t tell me Laylay doesn’t know how to have fun!)

And then we ate:

Slim Jim’s



Rice Krispy treats (at 5:30 Sunday morning when she woke me up)

Protein Bars

A fruit pouch (her mom insisted and sometimes I follow basic commands)

Candy Canes (yep, leftover from last Christmas)

I think that’s all, but I wouldn’t swear to it.  So, I have no idea what she was telling her mother, but the child is an attention-seeking embellisher of the truth.  I’d say I’ve no idea where she gets this from, but storytelling quite simply runs in our family.  We don’t call it lying, so much as CPR or a “creative perspective on reality.”

My daughter sheepishly apologized when she told me about the less-than-stellar-3-star sleepover review   She was actually afraid I’d be offended.   Honestly, I was a teensy-weensy bit offended, but mostly I felt guilty.  I felt it was I that owed HER an apology. Not for starving her kid…

…But for manifesting a Mini-Me.  You would’ve thought they broke the mold, but apparently we are making sequels.  


A Saturday evening spent doing her “make-ups!” interspersed with dancing and watching Grease.
(Hair by Laylay)