Monday, October 12, 2009

Cursing my Name

We borrowed a book from the library. It tells the charming story of a little girl who hosts a dinner party with dozens of guests, all while her mother is chatting on the phone, thinking the little girl is getting ready for bed.

As more and more guests arrive, the little girl feels more and more overwhelmed, calling for help from her distracted, chatting mother. (I fear I have been this mom, on occasion.) As the guests, caterers, magician, and musicians arrive, she keeps calling, "Mommmmma!"

(I will not tell you how it ends, in case you'd like to check it out for yourself. Plus, it's not that much different from The Cat in the Hat.)

During the first bedtime I read the book, I threw myself into the characters, carefully portraying the little girl's dismay over hosting a party with no adult help. As she called for her Momma again and again, I let my voice grow more and more agitated. "Mommma!"

Except I didn't realize that I wasn't simply narrating... I was modeling.

And now Tyler has learned a new way to speak the name of his beloved mother, anytime he would like her attention. "Mommma! MOMMMMMAAA!"

I don't think so. This is not a fictional account of our lives, cute and clever boy. Try again.

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