Once again, with increasing frequency, I become my mother. It’s a good thing I like her and want to be like her because it appears that I am becoming just that.
Tonight, coming home at bedtime…
Child: Mommy, I’m hungry.
Mommy: We already ate dinner.
Child: Mommy, I’m hungry!
Mommy: <sigh> Well, drink a glass of soymilk.
Child: I don’t wanna drink milk!
Mommy: It’s milk or nothing at all.
And the funniest thing is that I was just recounting this particular memory to Devo just a few nights ago, reliving the childish frustration that my usually indulgent and loving mother would not open the kitchen and cook me the meal I desired at 8 o’clock at night, after we had already eaten supper. <sigh> What goes around comes around.
She ended up eating cold pinto beans. And drinking milk. Yech.