Oh honey, I feel your pain. Recently, Ward has become very contrary. He will constantly defy any statement I make (whether directed at him or not): "No mommy, dat ice not cold. Is hot." "Dis apple blue, is not red!' and the creme de la creme "No, I am not Ward! I am Ward!" He has also begun begging for time outs, which I assume is some sort of sophisticated strategy to render time outs moot. NOT GONNA WORK PAL. Or maybe it will, I'm weak-minded. Hope that helps!
Dear Julia - I really love brussel sprouts, but they smell terrible! Every time I make them, my entire neighborhood smells like Del Taco farts for a week. What do I do?
Here's what you do: you keep making brussel sprouts. You don't stop making brussel sprouts. Make them until your kids leave home, make them until your friends abandon you, make them until the sun burns out because you are a hero and no one can tell you how to live your life.
Dear Julia - Is it actually ironic or just Alanis Morissette ironic that I have an addiction to the TV show My Strange Addiction?
Dear Julia - I often imagine that I'm a unicorn who is disguised as a human so that no one will kill me and harvest my enchanted horn to make faerie dust. Is that weird?
Mikyn, is that you girl? Just kidding, I already know it is you because you're the only person obnoxious enough to spell fairy that way. But to answer your question, no it's not weird. Being a unicorn is a common fantasy, as is imagining your life is a movie or pretending to be Indiana Jones while trying to get under your closing garage door without tripping the sensor.
Dear Julia - Do you think by now that everyone has figured out that you're actually the one writing all of the questions in this post? Because no one has ever asked for you advice before even though you're obviously KILLIN IT at life.
Listen, I don't know who sent this question in (I do), but people are DYING for my advice! Sure I'm not perfect, but you're not living life unless you're making some mistakes! There are two types of people in this world: the ones at the fancy party who stand in a corner sipping their virgin cocktail and the ones knocking down the candelabra as they seductively lie on a baby grand piano to croak out a slow jazz version of Raspberry Beret. Which one do you want to be?!