I live in a house of extremely competitive people.  We have family races to bed and guitar hero rock-offs complete with behind the head Hendrix style antics.  My son at 5 was using phrases like, “I’m gonna crush you” and “you just got schooled.”

The latest thing in my house is family superlatives.  You know like, “Most likely to make their bed” or “Best looking in a Barbie wig,” (thankfully my daughter won that one).  My son is doling out the titles and my little girl wants in on the good ones.  Each day she asks me to think of things she can be the best at, because Jake already has throwing, catching, guitar hero, whistling, streaking and tying his shoes.

So, I gave her “Noise Making” and “Underwear Putting On.”  Listen, this has been going on for a week or two, we’re well past “Most Spirited,” and “Best Smile” I’m running out of accolades… I’ve even managed to assign “Biggest Flirt.”

Last night at dinner, while giving themselves some big ones like “Artistic Ability,” “Most likely to be President,” and “Best Imagination,” I hear, “Hey Mommy do you know what you’re the best at?”

Finally, I’m in. “What?” I replied excitedly.  “Is it best dressed?”
“Nope.”
“Best Cook?”
Pause, small snicker… “Nope.”
“Funniest?”
No pause, big snicker as if to say ‘As if’… “Nuh-uh”
“Singing, accents…laundry?” at this point I’ll take anything.

Ryan: Farting
Anything but that.
Jake:  No Daddy wins “Best Farter.”
Ryan:  No Mommy doe s.

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