Last night, after busting my momma ass at the local community center gym that my husband happens to work at, I picked up Josie from the “kid-care” center (aka: the “we’ll just make sure she doesn’t die while you work out, you selfish mother” center). As we were leaving, Josie made her obligatory goodbye’s to my husband’s coworkers and then promptly demanded asked for an ice cream (yeah, I know, they sell ice cream at the gym, I don’t get it either.) Unfortunately for Josie, all they had left was the $3.00 Ben and Jerry’s pop or a pseudo-Klondike bar. Being as she is OCD like her parents, Josie COULD NOT eat the Klondike bar, citing ”it’s too messy!” (she’s well trained, my friends) And I was just unwilling to shell out three bucks for ice cream for a 3 yr old.
I should know better, but I asked my husband if he had any cash on him so we could stop for soft serve on the way home. (In case you don’t know, my daughter rarely just hears the word ”no.” Don’t worry, I understand how much money in therapy this will eventually cost me.) He did not have any(duh) but one of his coworkers offered up her buck to my eager child.
Josie timidly took the dollar bill from the coworker, smiled a huge smile and said; “Thank you.” She then turned to my husband and gleefully yelled ”Daddy! Look! I have two million dollars!”
Kristian looked directly at me and said, “Well, I guess we know where she gets her sense of money from.”
