She cooks and cleans better than me. Her bake goods do not feature black, smoke emanating bottoms like mine do. Her hair is great with the right amount of body and no frizz. She smells like fresh peaches and is a natural leader with discipline and poise.
Under normal circumstances, I would hate her and call her a bitch. But, since she is just turning eight years old today and is my daughter, I think instead I will be satisfied that in a few years my beautiful, intelligent girl will declare me incompetent and take over the management of my household, allowing me to write all day and chase sleazy tramps away from my three boys.
