When I was sixteen, against all parental advice, I got a job. I was a hostess at a fairly upscale restaurant in town, working a few nights a week, and I loved it. I loved seeing all the different people (met Tom Petty once!), I loved feeling like I had a purpose greater than acing tests, and I loved the camaraderie that comes with working in a restaurant. It's unlike anything else.

I loved everything about that job, in fact, besides my boss. The big, big boss.

The woman, you see, was balls out nuts. She hated most people, hated running the restaurant (it'd been passed down to her by her mother), and hated every second she spent there. It was evident by the way she barked orders at people, went from happy to furious in 0.1 seconds flat, and generally made all life around her miserable.

My toddler?

She's worse.

I don't mean she's as unpleasant or as rude as my former boss (who did, upon occasion, bust out a ruler to make sure our skirts were long enough), because she's not. She just wants what she wants when she wants it and nobody is gonna get in her way. I admire that trait in her - it'll take her far.

I'll just admire it MORE when she's becoming the President of the Solar System.

Her moods change as quickly as her diapers. One minute, she's happily talking to her trains, the next she's angrily demanding - nay, requiring - juice, but not just any juice. Has to be the only variety that I do not have. And when it comes to light that I do not have that particular type of juice? Well, the storm clouds in her wee brain break and it's all tantrums all the time. That is, until I can distract her again.

I know that someday, I'll be able to sit down and work for a half an hour without evoking her wrath -- wrath over daring to not pay attention to her. 

I know that someday, she will become logical and understand when I say things like, "no, we can't have ice cream for dinner," because ice cream is something we eat AFTER dinner.

I know that someday, I won't be solely responsible for everything that goes on in her universe - especially when it goes wrong.

I know that one day, I'll be able to understand which movie she wants to watch without having to stupidly stare at her when she says something nonsensical. Some day those words, will, in fact come, and may be used to do things other than tell me off.

I know this, too, will pass. Probably not for another 18-20 years or so.

Can you sympathize? Who's with me?