Wednesday, August 20, 2014


At 8:15 this morning, I had already been awake for three hours (thanks a heap, Charlie) and was at that moment standing at the stove cooking A.'s scrambled eggs. I had already fried eggs for myself and the children. My own breakfast had been sitting on the counter for ten minutes while I made A.'s breakfast and also doctored Charlie after his toe had an unfortunate encounter with A.'s chair.

A. was sitting at the table drinking his coffee with the kids while they ate their breakfasts. Cubby piped up with, "Oh, poor Daddy doesn't have any breakfast."

"That's right," said A. "Do you feel sorry for Daddy?"

"Yes," said Cubby.

The MiL, from across the kitchen, chimed in with, "Do you feel sorry for Grandma?"

"Yes," said Cubby.

Then A. asked, "Do you feel sorry for Mommy?"

"No," said Cubby.

Ingrates, the lot of them.


Anonymous said...

It can't possibly, help, but *I* feel sorry for Mommy.

Those eggs were likely 15 minutes cold when you ate them, weren't they?

tu mere said...

I definitely, as well, feel sorry for mommy. Mommy's rarely get the respect due their position in the family, no matter how awesome they are!

Anonymous said...

Mothers are never appreciated until, for the most part, their children are at least in their 40s or 50s. Mary in MN

FinnyKnits said...

And that is when Mommy Irishes up her morning coffee and gives everyone the finger.