... to be Asher? I imagine it's somewhat like being a cat. Cats don't have owners, they have staff. Asher doesn't have a mom, he has his own personal bitch.
Let's take this from the morning. Most of the time he wakes up in our bed, having either snuck in at 3am or he's been there all night because his
mother bitch couldn't take the crying at bedtime anymore. We'll get deeper into the bedtime shenanigans later. The first words out of his mouth demand food and drink and/or put forth a direct order for me not to close my eyes. After he's been properly served to his satisfaction we fight over clothes. I, the ultimate pain in his ass, think that being as it is 5 degrees outside he should wear long pants. I know, how completely unreasonable of me. He wants shorts. Or nothing at all. Most often he winds up wearing shorts under long pants and this is only accomplished by taking an oath promising he can peel off the top layer of clothes when we get back from taking Aidan to school.
Speaking of taking Aidan to school, every single day Asher asks if he can sit in the middle instead of behind me. Aidan is the ruling body for this and his answer hinges on whether or not Asher has pissed him off during the morning. Then Aidan is either Asher's "besth friend" or a "mean jerk".
Once we've returned home my work really begins. He demands a snack, a cartoon, a drink, and a blanket. Then and only then am I allowed to open up my laptop and do something that doesn't revolve around Asher. This lasts about 4 minutes. The rest of the day is a plethora of demands, orders, and instructions from the little terrorist.
By the grace of almighty God in Heaven bedtime eventually comes. 8pm is my favorite hour. Sixteen kisses and hugs later Asher begins to cry. Mama, me need you! Mama, me needa asth you a questhion! Mama, me sthared! Me stherious, Mama. Can I sthleep wif you guys? This lasts several minutes until I admit defeat and hand it over to Daddy who is somehow immune to his tears. Sometimes he wimpers a little longer before falling asleep, sometimes he wails before falling asleep, and more often than I care to admit he cons me into letting him sleep in the guest room or worst case scenario, in our bed so that I get zero time away from him in a 24 hour period of time.
Like I said, his own personal bitch.