No fucks given.

It’s amazing the differences between siblings. People comment often about how similar both my first and my second kiddo look – which is usually a nice way of them saying, ‘how the hell did you manage to have two blonde-haired, blue-eyed kids because I KNOW for a fact you color for you hair, Tottums’.

Dude, I have no effing idea. None.

What freaks me out the most is not how I managed to create two little Arian kids, but how the big one ended up looking so much like the blonde version of his dad, and how the little one looks so much like me … with the opposite personalities.


The Mouse could not be more like me if he tried. He is overly emotional, dramatic, and an attention whore to “nth” degree. He needs to be the center of attention, is the epitome of an extrovert, and requires approval from everyone in his sight line. He’s a people pleaser – and can’t stand to be in trouble, or for me or the Husband to be upset with him. This makes him a pretty easy kid to discipline, because every scolding turns into the world’s biggest catastrophe (in his mind) and I very rarely have to get upset with him over the same thing twice (I was a goody-goody too Mouse, it’s okay).

With my little Froggy though … how do I put this?

He gives no fucks.

None. In fact, the Husband likes to explain our children’s personality traits as: The Froggy gives no fucks, because the Mouse got them all. The Mouse got all the fucks.

If the Froggy gets in trouble (which, happens to three-years-olds occasionally), he gets to sent to his room or time out and throws a gigantic fit. Unlike his brother, who will settle down after a few minutes and then beg for forgiveness, the Froggy will continue to throw said fit until he has lost his voice or kicked down his bedroom door, whichever comes first.

If the Husband raises his voice to the Mouse, the Mouse LOSES it. Like, inconsolable crying and hysterics for 15 minutes and a whiney kiddo for a good couple of hours after the fact. If the Husband raises his voice to the Froggy, the Froggy stops screaming and says, ‘okay’.

No fucks.

A toy being taken away from the Mouse? END. OF. THE. WORLD. A toy being taken away from the Froggy? A few tears and then, “meh”. One time, the Husband got onto both kids for roughhousing in our room and sent them both to time out. The Mouse ran screaming and crying from the room and (I shit you not) the Froggy skipped out of the room humming.


No fucks.

It’s been interesting, learning how to speak to and discipline each of them differently. With the Mouse, I have learned that a calm, stern talk is really all he needs to drive the point home – I have to make him understand that I don’t hate him, he’s still a good kid, but that he needs to not do whatever it is he was doing. With the Froggy? I pretty much have to get in his face and act like he’s a serial killer before it even registers as a blip on his radar.

I am SO looking forward to 14.

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