Mom of the Year


Nothing makes you feel like mom of the year quite like when you’re checking out at the grocery store and misjudge the ratio of bag weight vs. child in the stroller weight, and as you hang the last bag on the handle it tips over backward and suddenly your child is on the floor pleading in a scared voice, “Mommy what happened, mommy my head!” You look down and he’s buried in plastic bags, spilled apples and a can of chicken soup. The cashier looks horrified. Then you laugh and say to her, “Oh he’s fine, that happens all the time!” Not until the walk home does it occur to you, “You know, in retrospect maybe I shouldn’t have said that happens all the time. I mean it DOES happen all the time, but maybe telling a random stranger about it didn’t exactly make me look like I should be in charge of a tiny, helpless human being. Huh.

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