There are certain phrases every parent hates hearing. The ones that make you cringe, and steal just a little piece of your soul. Phrases like, “(CRASH) Sorry mom!” Or, “Mommy! Come see what’s in the toilet!” Or “(CRASH) I’m okay!”
We cringe because we know – we know that somewhere, deep within the bowels of the earth the kitchen, something has been destroyed. Your cell phone just took a swim in the porcelain pool. Grandma’s bread dish just served its last family dinner. Your good necklace isn’t your good necklace anymore.
At this point, I should just know. I should know that, “Look, Mommy!” generally precedes them showing me something I very much do not want to see.
But I don’t know. I haven’t learned yet. Which is why when Smush called for me asking me to look at her gloves, I didn’t worry.
I should have worried.
You know what that is? Fluff. Sticky, messy, good-luck-getting-that-off-anything, marshmallow fluff. I’ve purchased this exactly twice in 9 years because it’s basically sugary chemicals. So what happens when I get the kids a treat? This.
And this. That’s the play kitchen in the toy room.
No treats for you.
