Last child syndrome…
Our youngest, referred to herein as Potsticker, or Pik for brevity, shared the following joke with me this morning. (Her life is a barrel of bloody razor-blades. Just ask her.)
It’s not original, so if you’re the one who told it first, well, sucks to be you.
First-born child: “Mommy, why am I named Petal?”
Mommy: “Because when you were born, a petal landed on your head.”
Second-born child: “Mommy, why am I named Rose?”
Mommy: “Because when you were born, a rose landed on your head.”
Last-born child: “My favorite color is potato.”
Mommy: “Shut the hell up, Brick!”