But I don't want to clean my room, it's not fun.
Really?  Because I love scrubbing toilets.  It's the most fun I have each week.  I also love picking up toys and dirty socks off the floor.  Oh, and emptying the dishwasher!  And doing laundry and vacuuming - I love it all because it is so much fun.

Three days later:  Mom, tell me!  Is cleaning toilets really fun?


Oh CRAP!
Addison!  What did you say?  Did you say crap?
Um, yes. 
Addie, we don't talk that way.  I don't want to hear again, understand?
Yes mama.

One day later while I'm trying to finish the girls Easter skirts and made yet another mistake:  Ugh! CRAP!
Mom, I thought you said we don't talk that way.

Addie, you need to get those teeth brushed, the bus will be here soon.
I knoooow, Mother.
Addison, I don't need you talking back, just get it done.
Ugh.  I'm dooooing it, Mom. Ugghhh.
{deep breaths, counting to ten, trying not to snark loudly back at a five year old}


Over the last month or so I have been parenting myself. 
A five and half year old version of myself. 
The endless mouthiness.  The need to get in the last word.  The incessant endless need to be right.  And, oh, the drama.  The incredible drama with eye rolling and crocodile tears and huffing.  The foot stomping and hands on the hips and door slamming.  All of it. 
All of it I have done seen before somewhere.