This week’s writing suggestion from Absolutely Bananas is to finish this sentence: I’m your mother, not your ________.
And what do I always end up saying? Well, here’s what I’m trying to tell Kid that I’m not:
OK. Maybe I don’t actually say, “I’m your mother, not your MINJIAO!!!” But if I knew that word before today, I am sure I would have used it.
It would happen right after Kid would stretch her long arms up and sweetly say, “Mommy, will you carry meeeeeeee?”
Which happens after school, at the park, and in the kitchen.
See, I used to be her minjiao, so I can understand her confusion. But that was a good 20 lbs ago. Her weight, people, not mine. You know, when she was a toddler. We’re all minjiaos then for our kids, right?
Really, the one you should feel sorry for is not me, it’s Dog. Because Kid is trying to sign her up as the minjiao now. Too bad they weigh about the same. And Dog has bigger teeth.
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Most boring was Joe. His suit looked like a drunken law school graduate’s suit, not a young graphic designer interview outfit. And I ought to know. Bye, Joe.
Kenley is getting boring in her own way, too. Her own way, all the time, her own way. Reminds me of a certain Kid I know and live with…. She finally has a youngster to mold and what does she do? A mini-me. Way to stretch.
Jerell‘s was fine and all (I liked the top), but….yawn….where are the drag queens when you need them?
