March 5, 2011
My husband was sick for a lot of the past week. Yesterday afternoon, I took the boys to the park. My daughter stayed home with Tim and watched a movie.
Within minutes of arriving at the park, my two year-old son made friends with a couple of eight year-old girls. The girls were perfectly happy to carry my son around on a chaise and feed him grapes, and my son was perfectly happy to let them.
"You two are such good little mommies," I told the girls. "Thanks for your help taking care of him."
The warm and fuzzy feelings were short lived.
Suddenly, out of no where, sprang Mother Hen. She emerged from the back seat of my husband's car with a look of fierce determination on her face. She took one look at the girls holding her brother and started sprinting.
"I would run away really fast if I were you,"I warned the girls. They had no idea what was about to hit them. It was a good thing that they listened.
My daughter spent the next several minutes inspecting her brother for signs of injury. Then she took him to the drinking fountain to wash off the girls' germs from his skin.
"Why did you let those girls hold my baby?" she hissed upon return.
I apologized profusely and begged forgiveness.
"I am never going to let you go to the park without me again," she said.
Clearly I cannot be trusted.