Nobody Loves You Like Your Mommy

glamour MaliaGMan asked, “Where are we going when we wake up in the morning?” (This is a daily, sometimes hourly question from him. He must know what’s on the agenda for each day.)

I replied that we would be going to the bank, the grocery store and possibly Target.

There’s a Krispy Kreme near our bank and we occasionally stop for donuts after our bank stop. I knew what question was coming next…

“Can we go to the Donut Den after we go to the bank?”  (He calls all donut stores “Donut Den” which is actually in Green Hills and not even close to our bank.)

To which I answered, “No, I’m sorry, we’re not going to get donuts tomorrow.”

Hmmph. (from the backseat)

“Well, I wish you weren’t my mommy!”

“Really? Well, that’s too bad. Good luck with that!”

Silence, then…

“I really wish you weren’t my mommy!”

“I see. Well then, who’s going to make your lunch?”

“Daddy.”

“Who’s going to tie your shoes?”

“Daddy.”

“Who’s going to wash your underwear?”

“Daddy.”

“And who’s going to make you oatmeal chocolate chip cookies?”

“Daddy.”

Contemplative silence…

“No. Daddy will get tired of doing all that and send you back here!”

(Very astute observation young man!)

“You can still be my mommy.”

Just try and stop me!

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Filed under by Malia, life as a domestic goddess, The GMan

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