Too Smug for My Own Good

I’m going to hell.

For being too gleeful.

And I should be absolutely ashamed of myself.

For taking joy out of the fact that my brother’s toddler spread bodily waste on a rug.

It’s just that I can’t help myself.

My brother used to mock me mercilessly once I became a mother.

Because I scheduled family dinners out for 6 o’clock. (“Who eats at 6 o’clock? Old people!”)

For the fact that my house seemed like a Superfund site to him, teeming with kid germs from children who were fond of dabbling in trash and waste.

And now he, a father himself, is experiencing parenthood in all of its various colors, smells and textures.

And it’s hard to suppress my smirk.

(I do, however, feel badly for my sister-in-law though. She never made fun of me.)