The Season of Snot and Sass

O Ye Goddes.

Wouldst thou help me in not throttling mynst childe withun my handes, as she has entered the season of snot and sass.

The snot, it cometh. Like the flood thou didst unleash upon Noah, her nostrils have runneth forward.

And the backtalketh. After but three fortnights with her most adoring kin during the Time of Giving Thanks, she hath become spoilt. Rotten, dearest Lord. And the words that do cometh from her tiny baby's mouth are only "NO!" and "Doest this!" and "Doest that!"

I fear dear Father that I may smacketh her peaches into next week if she doesn't abstain.

And please Lord, the snot. Make it stop if you feel me worthy. For you see, my child has become somewhat addicted to the Infant's Tylenol Cough/Cold and the Infant's Robitussin. She becometh like an Oklahoma meth addict in the field, pining for more pseudophedrine.

In Your name...