And Then Hell Froze Over
July 23, 2008Scene: Me, cooking Bok Choy salad in the kitchen. Daughter is bathed and laying on the floor in the living room watching Blues Clues.
Your Average Mom is chopping Bok Choy at the counter, oblivious to the life changing event about to occur.
Darling Daughter: “Momma?’
Your Average Mom is busy and rolls her eyes as she expects a request for pink gum or “valentines days,” aka: conversation hearts.
Me: “What, Josie?”
Darling Daughter: “Is it time for bed yet?”
Your Average Mom drops the knife on the counter along with her jaw. She slowly turns her now-dizzy head to the blue french country clock on the wall. It reads 8pm.
Me: “Sure, it’s bedtime.”
Darling Daughter: “Okay, I’ll get Lamby.”
Darling Daughter proceeds to pick up her ragged, well-loved stuffed Lamb off the floor in the living room and walk happily, quietly, WITH OUT PROTEST up the stairs to her bedroom. Your Average Mom stands dumbfounded in the kitchen, concerned that perhaps she fried her daughters brain with too many microwaved meals unwittingly lobotomizing her. Your Average Mom then realizes that it was a fair trade-ff, nay, a great trade-off, if it meant her 3 yr old daughter would put herself to bed without hysterics and tears and frantic manipulations for a glass of a water.
Your Average Mom is awakened from her stunned daze by the sound of her darling daughetr’s voice melodically traveling down the stairs.
Darling Daughter: “Momma, can I have a drink of water?”
Well, you can’t win ‘em all!
