Sundays with Stretchy Pants

Sometimes I’m a bad mom and I say things I shouldn’t to my kids (there, now you know. Go talk about me with all the good mommies). Tonight Maya told me that her friend poked her in her arm. I said big whoop and she said, “Don’t call me big whoop, I just love you mama.” If you don’t think that’s funny, it’s just because you weren’t there. Trust me, it was super funny to all 5 of us who were there. If I were a better mom, I would have a baby book in which to write that kind of thing. But I’m not and I don’t, so deal. Big whoop.

I also think it’s funny when I say, “Tell me about it!” and Maya says, “I just did telled you about it,” all exasperated. Also, I once told her to get off my back and she said she wasn’t on my back, which was true in a literal sense, but figuratively? Oh, figuratively she was on my back and wearing spurs. I realize it is harsh to tell a little child to get off my back, but seriously. She was wearing spurs and also she had a whip. I was justified.