Kitchen Nightmares. The Bachelor. Jerseylicious. Desperate Housewives … They’ve got nothing on any group of 20 middle school girls. Throw in a few episodes of Dallas, General Hospital and Chopped … and you’re still not even close.
In fact, there’s more drama in my home alone than in every soap opera, fake reality show and on Broadway — combined. And most of it comes from one person.
My sweet baby girl.
Now, before I go any further, know that I see Baby Girl as a participant. A drama vessel, if you will. Also, understand that I love her more than I love anything. She and I are like two peas in a pod. We share the same (dark) sense of humor; an equal penchant for tortilla chips and spicy salsa; and a fierce desire for dilled green beans. We were even born in the same hospital.
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