Sunday morning...Mothers Day. The day everyone celebrates and cherishes and pampers their mom, the day they acknowledge all her hard work and effort, the day she languishes in bed, pampered by a flowered tray carrying delicious heart-shaped pancakes and fresh squeezed orange juice-when cards, gifts and little surprises await...right?
"Mom! Jack is getting into medicine!!!"
I leap from my comfortable sleep, barely coherent to rush into the dining room and find, scattered down the hall and in front of the couch, mom's "medicine", which is, thankfully IceBreakers wintergreen mints.
"Phew!" I think, thanking Rosie for being such a great big sis and gathering the remains of my breath fresheners.
A spot...more like a dribble...catches my eye...coming out of my refrigerator and i turn, only to
audibly *gasp!*
"What happened???"
"I didn't do it mom, Jack did it this time, with the stool!"
"Jack!?!!! Did you make this mess!!!???"
"yeeeah I maked a meth wif ur eggs"
"jack, you did it?!" (Im sure Rosie was as shocked as I was, and tho I can't confirm it, I could have sworn I saw a look of pride in her eyes, surveying her protege's early morning project)
Still holding my mints, I wander, bewildered into the kitchen and open the fridge..bright green ooze trailed the veggie drawer and into the fan grates and down onto the tile....I look over at my little son, his diaper-clad self gazing adoringly at me, green mustache and all.
"I maked gween moovee (smoothie) for yuh!"
I turn back to blankly stare at the scene...the aforementioned stepstool moved close to the counter, littered with crumbled white shells and slime I guessed to be egg white...the egg carton empty of eggs...my 400 dollar blender, half full of eggs, shells and what I'm guessing is my "mooovee" and yolky footprints leading to the culprit, bewildered and excited at the reaction from the mama who, just last night, he had asked to "quish" him "yike a pam cake"before bedtime...
(discouraged sigh),
"oh Jack...I love you"
"Yuv too mama"
...it's the thought that counts right?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I loved your post! And it is the thought that counts, although a nice breakfast in bed does go a long way!
ReplyDeleteOh, that little Jack is such a sweetie!! (and rascal, but that's the best combo) : ). It is the thought that counts- and he was sure thinking about you when he made that mess : ). When you get a chance just try and relax and enjoy a good 'medicine.' Love ya!
ReplyDeleteI love your writing style...it suits me. This is so sweet. Jack wanting to get quished yike a pam cake...and then making you a moveee! What a doll.
ReplyDelete