The Griffith Law of Sympathy is as follows:
The amount of compassion is inversely proportional to the amount of hair, if hair growth remains constant.
Case in point: I make a cake, because I like the '80s. You should, too. Everyone needs more Bon Jovi and 21 Jump Street in their lives.
Eve eats my Smurf. For you Pinkalicious fans, the child pulled up a chair to our bar, placed a couple of books on top of it, climbs aboard and uses a straw to reach said Smurf before she smurfs him to death. Smurfin' A, dude. There is blue drool everywhere.
Eve's hair is now slightly more than an inch long. She is due for some discipline. I love you, child, but don't smurf with me.
We were warned by medical professionals not to treat her any differently. If she acts up, don't go easy on her. Treat her like any other child.
But...my other kids aren't bald. They have both kidneys. We didn't turn them into Glo-Worms to fight a potentially stray anaplastic cell.
If we're being honest, Eve was spoiled before she got cancer. She's petite. She's super-cute. She can do no wrong. Then add on some chemo, and she's demanding and receiving twenty Dum-Dums for lunch. And no, Nat and Dan, you CANNOT have candy as a meal. Eve is sick; she needs this to feel better. Now go finish your broccoli while I fix Eve some more chocolate cake.
So, yes, Matt and I are guilty. Consider this my written confession. I, Christy Griffith, have spoiled my youngest child and am now slightly terrified of how many years into the future it's going to be before I can undo this heinous act. You do the crime, you do the time. How long before parole, I ask? Dammit, where's a flux capacitor when you need one??
I know lots will be forgotten as the kids get older. I am suddenly aware of how none of them are babies anymore. This past week, Scooby Doo was replaced with The Wizard of Oz. Seriously? UN-animated movies? When did this happen? And why aren't my kids afraid of the Wicked Witch of the West? (Though, I'm not sure why I'm surprised. These are children who prefer Gargamel to Smurfette.) Maybe I'll show them Jaws next. Worse comes to worse, we save money on a beach vacation next year.
And as the children grow, they come up with the most insightful nuggets. My favorite from this week is from Daniel, age 4: "Sometimes it's good to have a big butt." I'm not sure who he was talking to, but I put down my nacho cheese and gave it some thought.