Children — Dear, Children —
I know I’ve discussed this issue before — when the Little Lady was, well, little — but it’s obvious it needs to be brought up again.
I know that as a Mommy very little is actually mine. . . just mine.
- If I’m eating something, I know I must put bites in your little rosebud mouths.
- If I have a drink, you will begin to beg for it — at which point, I must drink as much as possible because once I allow either of you to touch my cup, my drink will no longer be pure but full of crumbs, saliva, and whatever else happened to be in your mouths.
(the sight of which just reinforces my decision to never, ever drink after anyone . . . especially you two)
But, I’ve always assumed my body parts are solely mine. MINE — meaning I shouldn’t have to worry about little kidlets grabbing, pulling, twisting, or pinching them.
Kidlets — the girls . . .the tatas . . .the mommy melons . . . Thelma and Louise . . . are officially OFF LIMITS.
They are not your personal grappling hooks as you try to climb into my lap.
They are not your little stress balls that you must squeeze over and over when I’m holding you.
And while I know you are pre-programmed to push every button you see, my girls do NOT have buttons. No matter how much you push, prod, poke, pinch or pull, they will not light up, make noise, or shake.
I want us to make a pact – a big promise: you will leave the girls alone and Mommy will stop screeching in pain. I know how much my yelps scare you, so I assume you’d like the shrieks to stop.
Sounds like a good compromise to me.
p.s. Contrary to popular opinion, they’re not Daddy’s either. . . if you don’t mind passing that message along.