Tuesday, June 14, 2011

The proof is in the toes

Dear Caroline,

By the time you find this blog in the obscure world of the Internet, I will have succumbed to some random cancer/been run over by a truck/been beaten down by the stress of daily living. Because never, in a million living years, do I want you to read this and be exposed to my bad language and inappropriate jokes. Or to the fact that I often throw you under the bus because it’s funny. At least not while I’m alive and can be riddled with guilt.

Anyway, sweetie, you often tell me that I’m a bad mom. The worst, in fact. You tell me that all your friends have nicer moms, and that I never pay attention to you, and that I only pay attention to Jack.

So, I have this to say to you. Miss Caroline, was it the neighbor’s mom who grabbed you (not Jack) out of your (boring) music class for pre-beach manicures and pedicures today? I think not, missy. It was me. Super Mom, did you say? Why, thank you. I’ll take it.


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