I am apparently one of the meanest mothers on the planet. As I stood in the kitchen tonight, slaving over a home cooked dinner of scallop bacon chowder, my youngest child stood behind me, watching as I added the ingredients to the pot.
“What’s that?” “Leeks.” “I no yike yeeks. Can I have Dora yogurt?” “No.”
“What’s that?” “Garlic.” “I no yike gahyic. Can I have blueberries?” “No.”
“What’s that?” “Potatoes.” “I no yike tee matoes.” “No, Granuaile, they are potatoes.” “I HATE pee-tatoes! Don’t make me eat pee-tatoes!” “You have to eat them, you’re Irish.” “I HATE Irish!”
As if it wasn’t bad enough that I tried to poison my children with potatoes (which, by the way, Eilis doesn’t like either), Eilis walks in. I tell her to go hop in the shower. Dinner will be a little late, and rather than try to squeeze in a shower after dinner, it’s better if she has it now.
“ANOTHER shower? Are you people shower crazy or something? Why do we have to get a shower like almost EVERY day???”
Well, damn. Had I read the mom handbook properly, obviously, I would have known that children should never be made to shower and eat potatoes. Where did I put that darn handbook anyway? Maybe there’s something in there about not having to drive their ungrateful little hineys to school tomorrow…..