Presidents week means that the children are at home on holiday. With a brief preamble and a schedule board to hand, I suggest a bike ride in the park.
“Do you think that's such a good idea Mom?” she asks politely. I am pleased that she is aware of the many pitfalls of such a venture, all the possible meltdowns and squirmishes that we may need to deflect or endure. The boys are close by. They do not 'attend.' They are not 'included' in this exchange. I am fairly confident that the content of the conversation is being processed.
“Oh, I'm sure it will all be just fine dear, don't you worry, we have all day to manage it.” What a nice young woman she’s developing into. We women of the world need to rise up and unite.jaw surgery.” Oh gosh, such thoughtfulness shows her ever growing empathy and maturity. I attempt a sweet smile, although it's a bit lop sided. “That's so kind of you dear, but my body is fine, I'll just need to be careful about my face that's all.” Why isn’t the world populated only by womankind? I can feel my feminist banner on the rise above my head.
“That's what I mean!” Enough spunk and spice to tell it how it is. The banner flutters against the ceiling.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, your face is going to scare little children!” Ah. Such consideration for her fellow 'man.'
“Oh it will be fine, I'll be cycling so fast I'll just be a blur.”
“But you'll have to stop sometimes and then people will see you,” she squirms with a tone of alarm. Such sensitivity delights my heart.
“I don't think that there will be many people in the park, most people go away for the week on holiday.”
“Some of my friends aren't going away on vacation!” she translates unnecessarily. “Some of my friends might see you and then what?” I had no idea that her pals were of such a delicate disposition.
“It'll be soooooo embarrassing to have a mom who looks like a …..a…….well, not very nice.” Ah. Don’t sugar coat it dearie. My banner crashes down on my head, causing only psychological damage.
Junior jumps to attention and skitters over to us, scatters a pile of Pokemon and shouts, “but mummy has dah beautiful knees, so dah little kids can look at her kneeses!”
“Oh you're so dumb, my friends aren't little kids, they won't be looking at her knees.” Senior son snails his way over to the table where he collapses slug like, with a sigh to add, “it's o.k. I had dah big friends in my class too. My friends like mom's talkin.”
Rats to puppy dog tails! Such a shame that I still sound like a marble mouth.